The 25th Games: The Bite of Winter
by FandomsForeva
Summary: Cast in a shadow of darkness and fear, the Districts are far from hope and the beginning of spring. Shocked by the announcement of the Quell, the citizens are shrouded in an icy cloak of fear and discord. 24 Tributes are sent into the Games by their own Districts, but only 1 can return. Divided by their decisions and actions, all are sure to fall. SYOT CLOSED.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **District 5**

The Bethel family stared at the static flashing across their screen that meant the end of the mandatory broadcast, three months before the mandatory viewings normally started. The television remained on. None of them could muster up the willpower to get up and turn it off. They were all too shocked.

 _Vote. Vote for your Tributes._

Mr. Bethel, on the top floor, wondered if he had doomed his two children with the words that he spoke against the Capitol. He brought the Peacekeepers' wrath down hard on his sector in the factory. He was generally disliked. And his children had been pariahs for years. Would one of them suffer the district's wrath?

In the apartment under, Mrs. Elvara closed her eyes, refusing to let herself cry. Her Reaping-aged kids were safe. They had to be. No one in the district knew her, or cared. Her kids were safe. _Please, Capitol, let them be safe!_

Two floors down, Mr. Silas directed his anger at the couple above. They were safe. Their kids had aged out. They already looked down on him for being in such a low position in one of the power plants, and he could imagine their self-satisfied smirks. He clutched his wife's hand, stroking his daughter's hair. _Oh, Capitol. Oh, Capitol._

Across town, the mayor felt his stomach churn. His two sons were normally safe from the Reaping. They only had the minimum slips required for their age. But this year...who knew? The district rabble could take their revenge on him through his children.

For that night, the entire District seemed to pulse with anger, confusion, fear.

 **The Game Center**

Head Gamemaker Sagittarius Black was very aware of the fact that he needed to make this Arena unforgettable.

The Quell announcement had been made, and now the Game Center was in complete disarray, with Gamemakers simultaneously shouting their own suggestions and thoughts on the matter.

"The Games' twenty fifth anniversary! The bar's really set on us now!"

"We need to make this unforgettable—"

"—Of course, but how—"

"—The Districts'll send the crazy ones, we want it psychologically testing—"

"—The Tributes will be strong, of course! We need a _physically_ oriented Arena—"

"—How do we know what to do until the Tributes are picked?"

Sagittarius tapped his throat, happy for the new modification he had got that amplified his voice when he needed it. "Testing," he said. His voice rang out, loud and clear. He smiled. "I want everyone to take an hour and discuss themes for this Arena," he ordered. "I'll be in my office."

The silence of this announcement was short-lived however, and Gamemakers again began discussing and expressing their ideas for the Arena.

"We can't do something terribly basic, like a forest or a desert; the President will have our heads for sure!" one frantically exclaimed.

"Perhaps we could combine the two? Add in another biome as well?" another suggested.

"If it were last year, that would've been a fine idea, but this has to be something unexpected, original, for both the Tributes and the audience!"

"—Don't forget the President—"

"—This has to be a _change_ from the last twenty four years!"

Athena Lilac, one of the youngest of the group had stayed quiet, merely listening to the array of shouts and opinions until the word caught her attention. _Change_.

She looked around the room. They were underground by several floors, in a safe area where no one could spy on them. Still, she remembered the outside. It was springtime. Everything in the Capitol was meticulously climate controlled, of course, but not even the technology they had could completely destroy the bite of winter. Nor did they want to. There were winter fashions, spring fashions to catch up on. Speaking of that...Athena had an appointment with the hairdresser after this meeting.

The bite of winter. _Change._

An idea began to seed itself in Athena's mind.

 **District 1**

The thought that ran through the District like an electrical current: _What do I do?_

 _What do I do?_ The Tribute hopefuls wondered. They had been training all their lives for a chance to fight, and without the opportunity to Volunteer, their life plans could be completely thrown off. For some of them, their only chance to succeed—to live the life they wanted—was to go into the Games.

 _What do I do?_ The children who didn't train wondered. There was so much left up to chance in the petty world of District 1, where no one ever forgot an insult or missed an opportunity to get revenge. Anyone could easily be elected into the Games for the crimes of their parents, or for any perceived insult to honor. And with no Volunteers—for the first time in years, District 1 could have an untrained Tribute.

 _What do we do?_

 **District 12**

It was different out in District 12.

The children in the Community Home were waiting in silence, hoping for someone to break the horror in the air.

Finally, one of the older children spoke. "It won't be us."

A younger child snorted. All of them in the room knew that the older one was lying. They were the ones that District 12 didn't care about. They were the ones that weren't loved. They were the ones that were unnecessary. They were the ones who would be chosen.

The children sat, wondering which one of them would be missing in three months.

 **Presidential Palace**

The President was a man who loved order. Arrangement, organization, systems- he thrived on those. They were practically his way of life.

He took a glance at his office. Perfectly rectangular picture frames and paintings adorned the off-white walls in a symmetrical fashion, each frame meticulously positioned exactly five inches apart from those beside it. His desk was neat, free from any clutter, and the two snake plants that flanked the oak door stood as upright as ever.

A slight smile crawled up his face as he let out a sigh.

His love for order was a major reason for why he had kept his presidential position for more than a decade. His firm style of governing coupled with the importance he gave for planning had definitely kept the Districts in check for the last ten years. Hardly any acts of rebellion broke out. He was confident he had extinguished even the tiniest fire in the hearts of the insurgents.

It was the best feeling to be in control.

At that moment, he was currently awaiting the call of the Head Gamemaker, Mr. Sagittarius Black. He was to inform him of the plan for the Quell's Arena before its construction was to commence.

The President was glad for the fact that he had notified the Gamemakers three months before about the special nature of these Games from those that preceded it. It was to remind the rebels it was their choice to allow their children to get killed, after all.

He had given the Gamemakers two weeks to decide on an Arena they were to present to him. It was the morning of the fourteenth day, and he had been expecting the familiar ring of the hologram in his office for the past hour.

He was scanning a few documents when Sagittarius finally called, as he immediately tapped the silver device on the third ring.

The familiar face of Sagittarius appeared before him. "Good morning, Mr. Black. I assume you've accomplished your task?"

Needless to say, he was not disappointed by the reply.

He smiled. "Excellent. I am delighted to learn that this Arena will certainly be a great variation from those repetitive, generic forests."

Sagittarius paused. "I am certain this will truly be a remarkable _change_ that will be remembered."

"And you're certain you will be able to execute this very well? This kind of arena would definitely require precise planning and execution."

"I assure you, Mr. President, our team is composed of the most innovative and intelligent of the Capitol. We will skillfully pull this off with flair."

"Wonderful." The President smiled. "Then please, let the Games commence." He hit the button, and Sagittarius disappeared.

The President looked out the window over the springtime in his city. "Let the Games commence."

 **Author's Note:**

 **This is an SYOT. The Tribute form and rules are on my profile, as well as on LiaRegie's profile. This is for the 25th Hunger Games, the first Quarter Quell, so keep that in mind.**

 **This does not fit in with Demigod Games or Talent canon. Don't expect characters from either of those stories to show up.**

 **This is a collaboration between LiaRegie and I, just so everyone knows. We're excited to be writing this, but updates might be slow.**

 **Thank you!**


	2. At Nine in the Morning

**District 1**

One of the many perks of living in the illustrious District 1 was that the Reapings were very early in the day, at 9 o'clock. While getting up early might have been a problem for the very highest classes, for most people, it was nice to have the pleasant early-morning weather of the summer and still be able to get to work after everything was said and done. Citizens packed themselves into the Town Square, spilling into the wide streets beyond. The center of town was one of the most beautiful places in the world, even with the Capitol.

However, the Square buzzed with a strange, morbid kind of excitement. On a _normal_ Reaping day, it was a chance for the District to observe the beautiful, strong Volunteers that their Victors had expertly trained to compete in the Games (though no one needed to know that). On a _normal_ Reaping day, the citizens of District 1 were able to feel hopeful about their chances in the Games. They sent their Tributes off with wild cheers, knowing that there was a good chance of one of them returning.

This was _not_ a normal Reaping Day.

Normal Reaping Days didn't involve a two envelopes, each alone on a small podium, so flimsy-looking that it was a wonder the wind hadn't blown them both away yet. The District watched, apprehensive, each one feeling slightly sick. Many of them didn't have anything at stake in this particular Reaping. And yet, each one of them had participated in a sickening vote that would determine which unwanted ones would have their names read out, and be sent off to the Capitol. Most likely not to return.

After all, this year had offered them a unique opportunity. They could rid themselves of two people forever through a completely legal method. Most of them had tried to place their votes for someone that they knew would not be coming home, even if it meant overlooking an even bigger annoyance. There was no point in allowing a murderer or a rapist the chance to win the Games and come home to exact their revenge.

Happy, sad, worried. And thousands of children, corralled into small sections like cattle in District 10, each one with a heart threatening to explode with the wild fear of being sent into the Games. Of being sent off to die.

Rainbow Grassie mounted the stage, followed by a line of Victors, each one looking much less than excited. The Square went strangely silent. Even the wind seemed to quiet itself. A bird sang out from a roof, before quieting, as if sensing the atmosphere.

Only Rainbow looked as elated as usual. "Another year, another Reaping!" she trilled. "Though a different one than normal, I must say! Well, we don't want to put off learning who it is, do we? Look at all of the excited faces in the crowd!" Rainbow confidently walked over to the podium in the place of the girl's Reaping ball, ripping open the envelope in an audible motion that was too loud against the silence.

"And who do we have? One Adalicia Corona!"

 _Shit! Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit._

All eyes in the crowd turned to find Adalicia Corona.

Adalicia kept her head high and her posture good. Bile rose in her throat. _Don't throw up. Don't throw up._ Adalicia avoided the eyes of the crowd, a few sympathetic, most hateful. She only had eyes for her older brother.

 _Vasyklo._

He was looking back at her, a look of grief in his eyes as if she had already died.

They had discussed the possibility of one of them being picked over the last few weeks, trying to prepare themselves for the Games. Adalicia had told him that she was ready. That she wasn't afraid.

How wrong she had been! Adalicia bit back a sob. _Oh, Vasyklo._

"Is Adalicia Corona here?"

Adalicia moved through the crowd in the 13-year-olds section, her simple blue Reaping dress fluttering slightly in the wind. Her District was watching her. The world was watching her. Adalicia stared forward. _Patience. Pride. Dignity._ Her District may have betrayed her, but Adalicia had to keep her head on her shoulders. That was what Vasyklo had repeated to her so many times over the last few months, ever since that horrible winter. _They may hate you. But they can never take who you are away from you._ Adalicia mounted the steps to the stage.

She could sense Miss Grassie's confusion. Adalicia may have been thirteen, but she had barely entered puberty, and so she looked younger than she was. And with the traditional District 1 skin, eyes, and hair? She must have looked innocent and naïve.

 _Good. Better for me,_ she thought.

"Wonderful to meet you, Adalicia! I'm Rainbow!"

Adalicia smiled up at her, trying to look as angelic as possible, and didn't speak. She didn't trust herself to talk without crying.

 _I'm going into the Games. I'm going into the Games! What do I do?! What do I do?! WHATDOIDOWHATDOIDOWHATDOIDO_ —

The District was watching her. They didn't even look surprised. That was the worst part. _Oh, Capitol, what if Vasyklo's Reaped?! I can't do that! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!_

Rainbow walked over to the boys' envelope, and opened it with a fancy flourish. "Paris.. Sapphire!"

This time, shock was evident on many faces. _Paris Sapphire..._ Adalicia tried to place the name. She couldn't. But who could be bad enough to go into the Games? Adalicia clenched her fists, afraid. Why didn't she know about him?

Surrounded by shock, Paris let himself be caught up in the emotion. _What...why?_

He had known that he wasn't very liked in his neighborhood, but was he really so hated that the entire District would send him into the Games? Paris was seventeen. He only had a year to go. He had been so confident that he could feel safe this time around...how wrong he had been.

Paris sent harsh, yet subtle glares all around him as he approached the stage. How dare his District do this to him? What had he ever done to him? He didn't deserve this. He could think of many other males who did. Mark came to the forefront of his mind quickly. Paris walked up the stairs. He felt surprisingly calm.

"I'm Paris," Paris said evenly.

"Wonderful! Such a...handsome boy!" Paris watched Rainbow's eyes travel up and down his body, taking sight of his dingy, slightly patched-up clothes and the soot that darkened his light hair. _Whatever._ Rainbow couldn't judge him. No one could judge him.

"Adalicia Corona and Paris Sapphire! The people that you voted as your Tributes!"

No one cheered.

* * *

Adalicia's mother and father were the first people into the goodbye room.

"Get out," Adalicia hissed, glaring at her mother.

"Addy…"

"Get the hell out!"

Adalicia wanted to hit something. No. Some _one._ She wanted to hit her mother, to punish her mother for the idiocy that she had committed. Her mother's crime had led to her being put into the Games. And Grace Corona probably didn't even care!

"Oh, Addy." Adalicia's mother tried to hug her. Adalicia dodged out of her grip. "No. I don't want to see your fucking face."

"Adalicia, we love you," Adalicia's father, Jasper Corona, said. "Know that we love you." He took his wife's hand, taking her to the door. Adalicia didn't know what to think. Her father was supporting her, but she wanted him to stay. She wanted almost wanted her mother to stay. She wanted comfort. She needed comfort.

But not from _them._

They had ruined her life.

"Get the hell out," Adalicia said, her voice shaking, her face screwed up with anger. "Get the fuck out. I don't want you here."

Vasyklo entered right after their parents had exited, and Adalicia collapsed into his arms, starting to cry. "Don't," Vasyklo warned her. "Everyone'll see."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Adalicia. It's going to be okay."

"It's not."

"We've talked about this, Adalicia. You know what you have to do."

"It won't work." Adalicia drew back, almost angry at her brother. _He_ should have gone in, not her. It would have been just as bad for their parents, and he was older. He could survive. But that was exactly why Adalicia had been the one picked, wasn't it?

"No. You're going to trick them all, Adalicia. You're going to come back."

"Vasyklo…"

"Adalicia! Promise me!"

"Okay!"

"Time's up," a Peacekeeper said. Adalicia and Vasyklo hugged one last time. The instant that Vasyklo left, Juliette Blush and Jade Honor entered the room. Their thin arms tightly wrapped around her tiny figure, and although she couldn't breathe, she couldn't help the sigh of relief she released. Then her eyes brimmed with tears once again at the thought of having to leave her two best friends alone in the world of the living as she...well...moved on past this world.

"I _knew_ it—I just—knew it."

"Shh, shh," Jade whispered.

"Girl, we both know you don't deserve to be in there," Juliette said.

"I know, it's just—" Another wave of tears threatened to overcome Adalicia.

"People are horrible," Jade finished.

Juliette scowled. "Look, you may be young, but little experience is still better than no experience. You've _got_ to come back, okay? You just have to. Or else I'll kill you."

Horribly, Adalicia found herself smiling at the comment. The morbid joke seemed funnier now that Adalicia finally knew her fate. And that was the truth, wasn't it? The dreadful wait of the last few months was finally over.

Jade said, "I know I'm not known to be the most positive, but I'm telling you, Addy, _you can do this_."

"How?" Adalicia asked in a hopeless whisper. "And why? No one wants me back, anyway."

"Screw that!" Juliette seethed. "We want you back, Adalicia! We _need_ you here! You have to fight! Promise me!"

"Time's up."

Just before the Peacekeeper exited the room with her friends in tow, Juliette briskly grabbed her wrist, connecting the rings that adorned their right ring fingers. A single circle was formed by the two half-circles that each of them had on their rings.

"This won't be the last time you see me," Juliette said.

"We love you," Jade told her.

 _Don't leave,_ Adalicia miserably thought.

She had barely had a minute to be alone with her thoughts when Angel entered the room. Adalicia immediately glared up at her ex-friend. "What do you want?"

"I came to say goodbye."

"Why? I thought that we dealt with that _months_ ago."

"I voted for you."

The words left a silence ringing in the room. Adalicia felt the tears pricking at her eyes once again. When Angel had screamed at her at school the day after the incident, six months before, Adalicia had sat there and accepted the rage. She almost felt as if she deserved it. After all, it was _her_ mother that had led the class of six-year-olds to the rickety ice of the pond. It was _her_ mother who was responsible for four deaths, including the death of Ebony, Angel's younger cousin. But she had had Jade and Juliette by her side.

Now, she was alone. And Adalicia had almost convinced herself that her mother's crime wasn't her own. And with Angel yelling at her...Adalicia had never felt so weak.

"Good to know," Adalicia said, surprised by the venom in her own voice.

Angel nodded once. "I hope…"

"What?" Adalicia asked, against her better judgement.

Angel shook her head. "Good luck, Adalicia."

"Goodbye."

And then Angel Gilmore swept out of the room, leaving Adalicia Corona alone with her thoughts.

* * *

There were hummingbirds that frequented the Garden of Fountains and the Garden of Flowers during the summer. Paris had barely been able to escape his work at any point in the past years of his life, especially once Mark started training and left the family business for good. And his home in the Shard was quite far from Garden Row, an area that was about halfway between the Square and the Victor's Village, all the way on the other end of town. Still, Paris had been there a few times. He could remember the gem-like hummingbirds whisking through the air, wings whirling up and down faster than he could see with his own eyes.

Right now, his heart felt like it was going even faster.

His hands, too, were shaking. His feet. Every muscle in his body, really. So why did his head feel perfectly clear?

It was as if he could see a perfect blueprint of the situation in front of him. Somehow, he had been voted into the Games. Alright, then. This was his fate, just like it was Mark's fate. All that Paris had to do was find a way back.

 _But why?_

With so many other people in the District that could have been sent in, why _him?_ Sure, maybe he didn't have many friends. Maybe he was part of the class of poor-ass miners that the rest of Panem barely knew existed. Maybe his own neighbors hated him because he was the only one that had dared speak the truth about Mark. But _why?!_ With a District full of thieves and liars and rebels and loyalists, a District full of bitterness and revenge and scheming, why was it that _he_ was caught up in the center of it all?!

Why him? Why was it always him? What right did the world have to throw him all of this? What had he ever done to deserve the wheel of fate turning on him? He knew why the Corona girl had been picked. Everyone did. But why _him?_

Paris shuddered as a sob ran through him. _I can't do this. I can't do this. I don't even know why I'm here._

The door opened. Luca was standing there. Paris stared up into the face of his friend. "Oh."

"That's all I get?"

Luca plopped down in a chair across from him. "So."

"So."

Paris didn't even know why Luca had bothered coming. He had distanced himself from Luca so much in the last few months. Why did Luca keep trying? Couldn't he see that he could benefit himself by not hanging around with Paris so much?

"You're going to win," Luca told him.

Paris snorted. "I'm not."

"Don't be a cynic."

"I'm _not._ I'm being realistic."

"Face it, Paris. You're more talented than you'd like to believe. You're strong. Smart. You can handle pain. You've got a chance."

"That doesn't mean that I'm coming...coming home." Paris tripped over that word. _Home._ It was hard to think of himself as having a home when his parents were distant, when the neighbors disliked him, when the Shard was really the least homey place he could think about.

"But you're going to try, right?"

"I'm…" Paris looked at Luca helplessly, unsure of how to respond. He felt a wave of tears coming on, and turned away.

"Please. Paris, you have to try. You have to make it back—"

The door to the room opened with a _bang._ His parents stood there. Paris hadn't been sure that they would actually come, but he had never felt so relieved in his life. He wasn't ready to—to _die!_ —without seeing his parents one last time. His father looked exhausted, but that was always true. His mother looked angry, which was the most emotion that he'd seen on her face in months. She ignored Luca as she strode in. "Paris."

"Mom."

She finally turned to Luca. "What are _you_ doing here? This is a family matter." Paris winced at his mother's frankness. Though really, what had he expected? She was always like this. Especially in places where it really mattered, where she shouldn't have been.

"What do you care?" Paris asked.

Luca and Paris's parents all looked hurt, but the glare dropped off of his mother's face, as she let herself sag into another chair. "Fine. Let's talk."

"About what?"

"How you're going to fight. How you're going to win."

"Don't act like you care!"

Paris jumped up, eyes blazing. "After the last months—the last _years,_ don't you _dare_ act like you care _now!"_

"I am not losing both of my sons!" Paris's mother screamed back.

"So you fight, Paris," Paris's father said. "You fight! Promise me."

"Promise _us,"_ Luca amended.

They were all standing now, as if in a unified front, facing him. Forcing him to make a promise he couldn't keep. But in District 1, everyone knew that promises were made to be broken.

"Fine," Paris said. "Fine."

A Peacekeeper entered the room, and beckoned to Paris's visitors, who began to file out. His parents hugged him. Luca hugged him.

"We love you, Paris," his father said. "Don't you ever forget that."

His father looked away from him. With a jolt, Paris realized that his father was _crying._ Had his father cried when saying goodbye to Mark?

* * *

There were cameras trained on them as they made their way to the train: Rainbow Grassie, the mentors, Diamond and Satine, and the two Tributes, Adalicia and Paris. Adalicia noticed that Paris's eyes were red, as if he had been crying, and couldn't even muster up pride that she looked more composed than he did. She tried to find Juliette and Jade in the crowd, but couldn't.

Paris held the door for Adalicia as they got onto the train. "Thanks," Adalicia said.

Paris merely nodded at her, wondering if he would kill her, if she would kill him, of if they would both meet their ends at some point away from each other, and away from the District that had given them up.  
He was about to place his other foot into the train when he heard a shout.

"Paris!" The voice was familiar; in fact, he had heard it just less than ten minutes ago. _Luca._

Before he knew it, Luca's form appeared before him, and without saying a word, he roughly grabbed his wrist and opened his hand.

As he firmly pressed a small, spherical, green object in his palm, he told him, "You're coming back. I'm not losing my _best_ friend this early."

He was at an utter lost of words. Shocked, and- though he couldn't believe it- touched, he watched a Peacekeeper drag Luca away.

The emerald he held was clear, refracting light in his hand.

"I'll try to win, Luca," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. It was the least he could do for all those times Luca had helped him out and gave him food. He was no optimist, but for Luca, he was going to at try to least believe that he would return.

 _I'll try_.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire; Adalicia Corona**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **And that's the first of the Reapings! Thanks to RowenasSon21 and Golden Moon Huntress for your lovely creations. We hoped we wrote your Tributes well.**

 **For new visitors, the SYOT is still open, so please submit! We're still in need of both from D2 and D5, D3M, D4M, D6F, D8M, and the female spots from D9, 10, 11, and 12. So yeah. That's half more. We want a lot of people to take part, so we'll have more fun! Yay! C'mon, guys!**

 **As always, reviews are appreciated.**


	3. Of Wealth and Wickedness

**District 7**

Mathilda Fluttershy was almost smirking as she looked down at the crowd of District 7 citizens. Everyone knew that she held a great disdain for non-Capitolites, and that she was probably revelling in what they had been forced to do. District 7 may have only been the second live Reaping of the day, but it was still burning outside at 9:45, and Mathilda was probably enjoying watching the District literally sweat in front of her. She probably enjoyed the looks of terror on the faces of certain members of the District as well.

"Our lady for this year," Mathilda said, picking up one of the envelopes, "will be Acacia Mildeye."

A gasp ran through the crowd as the people standing around Acacia. In the fourteen-year-olds section, her comrades took a step backward from her, as if she carried some sort of disease. But even less emotion than that was shown in the form of Mayor Winona Mildeye, who stood stolidly on the stage. As always, her makeup was perfect, her suit impeccable, her string of pearls around her neck, a neutral look on her face. Acacia watched her mother, her forest-green eyes wide, waiting for a reaction. _Please! Do something, Mother! Save me! You could do it, you're the mayor!_

But her mother remained silent and completely dispassionate.

"Acacia Mildeye, your presence is required on the stage," Mathilda snapped.

Acacia couldn't help it. Tears began to fall down her face. She stumbled towards the stage, crying silently. _Why is no one helping me?! I shouldn't be on the stage! It's not my fault! I'm not a bad person! Mother, why aren't you helping me?!_

Acacia was in a blind panic. She was not ready to die. She was not ready to leave her District. As she mounted the stage, she instinctively moved towards her mother, arms outstretched.

Mayor Mildeye took a step back from her, gesturing to the spot next to Mathilda, glaring at Acacia. Acacia began to cry harder. But what had she expected? It wasn't like her mother had ever seemed to care about her very much.

"And moving on...for our boys, we have Kaede Mitchell."

Another gasp.

For a few moments, Kaede didn't realize that he was on the receiving end of the shock. But then the words echoed in his mind. _Kaede Mitchell. Kaede Mitchell._

 _That's me._

"Oh, _fuck_ no," Kaede snarled as he stomped out of a clump of eighteen-year-olds and towards the stage. He glared at the people around him. They would pay for this.

But how?

The thought almost made him stop short. Without him there, who would enforce punishment on the District? He made out a few faces in the crowd that were already grinning. The daughter of Mayor Mildeye and the son of Wayne Mitchell...the District must have been beside themselves with glee. Kaede was well-aware of the fact that he wasn't very liked. But that didn't change the fact that the District had no right to send him to fight in the Games.

They had _no right!_

 _How dare they do this?!_

"Fuck you all," Kaede said in a raised voice as he mounted the stage. "Fuck you all."

Mathilda Fluttershy looked almost amused by the display. "And there you have it! Your Tributes for this year, Acacia Mildeye and Kaede Mitchell! How wonderful!"

The round of applause that came up from the audience was, Kaede thought, was especially vindictive.

* * *

 _Why me? Why me? No..no..no..._ Acacia thought once again as tears coursed down her cheeks in torrents. Her eyes stung, and she let out a sob. Her time was already halfway up, and no one had come in to visit her yet. But what had she expected? It wasn't like she had many close friends. Despite her wild hope that maybe her father would show up and that she would get to meet him for the first time, Acacia knew that he wouldn't. But no matter how bad Poplar and her mother were, Acacia wanted them to at least come and see her one last time.

 _No! Not for the last time!_

But who was she fooling? Even compared to her District partner, Acacia was weak. What chance did she have against Careers?

 _No! I have a chance! I just have to train hard. I just have to have some hope._ Acacia tugged on a lock of her red, curly hair, a nervous habit that her mother always told her to get rid of. Acacia anxiously watched the door.

Finally, with about five minutes left in the hour, her mother strode in. "Well, I see that you were picked."

"Yes, Mother."

"I suppose you must feel very sorry for yourself."

"No, Mother. Feeling sorry for myself isn't helpful." Acacia repeated the mantra her mother had told her so many times, hoping that her mother would at least recognize that she had been listening every time.

Winona Mildeye nodded. "I expect you to fight, and fight hard. Don't make a fool of us."

"No, Mother. I won't."

Acacia's mother nodded again. "Good. Poplar won't be in to see you."

"Alright, Mother." Acacia found herself feeling relieved that her cruel older brother wouldn't be coming to taunt her one last time.

Acacia's mother nodded for one final time. Acacia wondered if she would break character and actually show some care for her, but no such luck. "Play your part well," was all that she said, before she left the room. She left no token behind, nor any confirmation that she really had cared about Acacia at all.

Acacia reached into her pocket and pulled out a single pearl that came from one of her mother's expensive necklaces. She rolled the glossy sphere in the palm of her hand.

"Play well," she reminded herself.

She looked back at the closed door, clamping her fist.

* * *

Kaede was expecting people to come see him. His family and friends, of course, and he almost hoped that someone from his lumberjack troop would come by and try to laugh at him just so that he could tear them down one last time. It would be nice to have a target right about now. Kaede clenched his fists.

As expected, barely a moment after he had been left alone in his room, his father stormed in. Wayne Mitchell was not known for his patience, especially when it came to matters that concerned his family and business. Kaede felt a bitter thrill of pleasure as he imagined what his father's actions would be over the next weeks.

The Mitchells owned a fairly large lumber transport and cutting company, and over a quarter of the District worked in a sector that was influenced by him in some way. Kaede might have worked in the manual labor sector for now, but there was no doubt that he would take over the business one day.

Well...well, except that there had been a rather large wrench thrown into those plans. Kaede glared at the floor. He'd just have to make it back. It was only a minor setback. He was strong. He could fight. He could make it back.

And then his District would regret the day they had decided to send him away in the first place. He wasn't some maniacal rapist or murderer or rebel. He wasn't the kind of person that they could just get rid of with no repercussions! Perhaps they believed that he deserved to be sent into the Games just because he was from a more privileged life, or because through their skewed viewpoints, he wasn't the best boss. But they were wrong. And they'd regret it.

Kaede's mother, Trulia, strode in not far behind his father. Iven, his little brother, was after her. Trulia closed the door. "How dare they!" she hissed. Kaede looked at his father, who seemed too angry for words. He opened and shut his mouth a few times.

Finally, he spoke. "Kaede, I promise that they'll pay for this." Trulia nodded, supporting him. Kaede looked at Iven, who was impassive, and glared.

"Good," he finally managed to answer. "I hope that they do. But this won't be the last anyone sees of me."

His father nodded. "No. You'll come back. I'm sure of it."

Trulia nodded, expression sharp and pointed. "Prove them wrong, Kaede. Prove _us_ right."

"We raised the best son. The strongest son. You'll dominate the field. With your experience...your strength, your brain, your upbringing...you'll win this easily." Kaede searched his father's expression. He couldn't find the lie anywhere in Wayne's eyes, and for that Kaede was grateful. And why should his father be lying? This _should_ be easy. Who would get sent? Some pathetic Career rejects, perhaps a few psychopaths, but no one too hard.

District 7 had made a horrible mistake.

This wasn't a goodbye session. It was a 'see you later.'

Wayne hugged his son. "You'll do this. I'm proud of you, Kaede. I'm proud already."

Trulia nodded. "You're the best son I could have asked for. You're strong, and brave, and have been such a help for years and years. Come back, Kaede. You can do this." She kissed him on the head.

"I love you," Kaede's father told him.

Kaede couldn't allow himself to say something so weak, not when he needed to be strong. The time for telling his parents the appropriate response could come when he had fought his way back to them. "I'll see you in a few weeks. Goodbye."

Iven lingered for a moment after their parents. "Good luck, Kaede."

Kaede regarded his younger. They were similar in many ways. They had the same brown, slanted eyes that marked them as coming from a different race than most of the District. They had the same dark, curly hair, and the same muscular build from working hard. But Iven hadn't received many of the gifts of genetics: he was short and stocky compared to Kaede's tall, lean build, and his features weren't anywhere near as handsome as Kaede's were. But there was something good-natured in his face.

 _Good-natured never helped anybody._

"I hardly need luck," Kaede answered, wondering how the two of them, so similar in looks, could really be brothers when Iven had never received any of the Mitchell family luck and inner strength.

"Please come back," Iven said. "I don't want you to die."

Kaede nodded. "Okay. I won't, then."

"I love you, Kaede."

"I'll be back, Iven."

Iven left.

The next visitor was something that Kaede vaguely knew from seeing around the District. Poplar Mildeye. He was known from being rather sadistic, from torturing pets, from setting a fire in an old factory a year or so ago. Kaede had been brought up to respect the long-time mayor, of course, but he was fairly sure that she was hiding something beyond that untouchable facade. How else would her son have turned out the way he did?

With a start, Kaede realized that Poplar wasn't as much Mayor Mildeye's son as his District partner's _sister._ Of course! Acacia Mildeye barely ever left her home, and rumors abounded that she was too insane to be let outside. It must have run in the family. But then, why was Poplar here? To kill him before the Games even started?

"No need to freak out," Poplar said, giving a grin that was a bit creepy. "I'm just here to ask a favor."

"What? To protect your kid sister? I'm sorry, but the answer's no."

"Hardly," Poplar smirked. "I'm here to ask that you kill her."

Kaede didn't let his disturbed feeling show on his face. He was too smart, too experienced for that. But he was incredibly confused. Was Acacia that bad? Or was it Poplar?

"Someone else will manage to do that," Kaede pointed out, not going on to point out that Acacia was hardly suited for these Games. He didn't want to insult Poplar.

"Just make sure she doesn't make it through," Poplar said.

"Why?"

"Would you believe me if I told you she was worse than I was? Worse than our mother?"

 _No._ Kaede was fairly good at reading people, and he hadn't picked up any vibes from Acacia. "Maybe."

"Or maybe I could just tell you that I want her to die."

"Alright."

The door opened again. It was Stefano. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't realize that someone was here."

"It's alright. He can leave."

Poplar left, but Stefano didn't sit down. Stefano Barker was Kaede's second-in-command as a lumberjack, and one of the only people that Kaede actually wanted to call a friend. "I just came to say good luck," Stefano said.

"Thanks," Kaede said. "I'll be back."

"Okay. I really hope that you do."

"I'll miss you," Kaede said before he could stop himself.

Stefano smiled. "Same here," he continued, "Though I will enjoy being in charge for once. If only for a few weeks."

"I'll see you then," Kaede promised.

When it looked like Stefano was about to leave, he said, "Oh, I just realized, have you got a token?"

Seeing him shake his head, Stefano reached into his pocket.

After digging around in his denim jeans, he pulled out a small, blue object and held it in the palm of his hand. On it was the image of three towers, an axe crossing over all of them in the center. It was the logo of the family lumber transportation company. _Mitchell Logs and Co._ A feeling of pride swelled within him.

"To remind you a little of your troop," he told him.

Kaede took the tiny pin, attaching it to the collar of his shirt. The corners of his mouth slightly turned up. "Thanks, Stefano. See you soon. Make sure the troop gets a lot of work done by the time I return."

"Of course. Until next time, Captain." Stefano tried to grin, though it looked more like a grimace. He awkwardly nodded one more time, and left.

* * *

Poplar's words replayed in Kaede's head. _I'm here to ask that you kill her._ Now, the fact that he was not some kind-hearted sissy was pretty well-known. But the idea of someone wishing their own sibling to die? It was almost unspeakable.

 _Was Poplar lying about his sister?_ he wondered as he boarded the train with a sniffling Acacia. _What is going on with that girl?_

He vowed that no matter what, she would not get the best of him. No one would.

Was he going to killing her? If it came down to it, sure, he would not hesitate. But would that happen? That, he didn't know. The future was indefinite, unpredictable. He was going into the Games soon! How _sure_ was he really that he would manage to dominate, to be the last one standing? He hated the doubt that had decided to cloud his mind, the fact that his faith in his father's words had wavered.

Grim thoughts of the Arena filled his head, terrifying him. For the first time, he was not in absolute control.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire; Adalicia Corona**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell; Acacia Mildeye**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **10 more to go! Thanks to Singlewave and Buffyrocks401 for your awesome brain children. We hope we did them justice!**

 **SYOT's still open, y'all. Hopefully this chapter encouraged you guys enough to submit. Wink. Lol. We need the D5M and the females from Districts 9-12.**

 **So how was this chapter? Who did you enjoy more and why? Reviews are super appreciated, you guys. Thanks for the positive feedback last chapter, friends! They make us feel all warm inside, honestly. See you next update!**


	4. The Hated and the Loved

**District 2**

Danica Ryans moved slowly on the stage, approaching the envelopes as if she was afraid of them. The District watched her with bated breath. Over the past months, they had been divided about who was best to send into the Games. The annoyances, to finally get rid of them? Or the ones who really wanted to win? After three months of waiting and voting and arguing, the tension was finally going to be broken.

 _Get on with it,_ thought Faustia. Her stomach was churning. This would be the defining moment of her life. She was eighteen, and had been given a good chance of being the Volunteer for the 25th Games. Or at least, that was what the trainers had told her, until the twist was announced. Now, the training she had dedicated her entire life to was in danger of going to waste. Faustia was not ready for that to happen.

Danica delicately opened the envelope. "Faustia Graston!"

Faustia breathed a sigh of relief, and the entire District seemed to breathe with her. Faustia felt buoyant and relieved, though she was too smart to let it show. Acting like an idiot might have been a good choice for Tributes from District 1, but she had a reputation to uphold. After all, her District had entrusted her with the responsibility of defending their honor against the other rabble and coming home a Victor.

Faustia fully planned on completing that duty.

She ascended the stage confidently, making sure to inject just a bit of pride into her walk, and shook Danica's hand. Danica's bright purple hand looked especially strange against Faustia's olive skin, and Faustia was once again surprised and not a little disgusted by the way that Capitolians altered their appearances. Still, Danica gave her what would have been an encouraging smile if her teeth weren't made out of some shiny, sparkly rock and sharpened to points. "Faustia Graston, everybody!"

The District gave her the cheer that they always gave for their beloved Career Tributes. Faustia smiled at them. "Thank you, everyone."

Ash was one of the only people in the Square that was not cheering for the girl onstage. _Careers,_ he thought, shaking his head. _So stupid. Throwing away their lives because they think they can win this death contest._ So maybe the District loved them. So maybe they all seemed confident and happy with themselves. But that didn't stop Ash from letting everyone know how much he disliked them. It was just that they were all so arrogant! And yet everyone, or at least everyone smart, knew that they were just glorified dogs, in the pocket of the Capitol, without any self-respect. They trained to kill kids. That was pretty much as bad as it got.

Robin elbowed Ash in the ribs, reminding him not to stand out. Ash brought his hands together a few times, if only to make Robin happy. Robin was one of the only people in the world that Ash actually cared about the opinion of. _Clap, clap, clap, little miss Career...I hope you're happy._

Danica made her way to the other envelope.

 _Another fucking Career...whatever. Not my problem._

"Ash Gabbro!"

 _Oh, fuck._

Faustia considered the name Ash Gabbro. She didn't recognize it at all from training, and she knew almost everyone there, except for the little kids. Oh, Capitol...Faustia really hoped it wasn't a little kid. Because Faustia knew that she had to do whatever it took to win, and she didn't want to have to kill a little kid to get there.

 _Ash Gabbro...oh!_

He had been in the news a few times in the last few months for winning a few different athletic things. But he hadn't ever been trained...Faustia caught a glimpse of Ash's face, and the piece fell into place. _Oh. That kid._

Ash Gabbro was well known around the District for his hate of Careers. While he had never been proven or even implicated with having any rebel sympathies, Faustia knew that a lot of her companions from training never liked him. Faustia had never given him much consideration. He wasn't her problem.

Well, now he was.

And he was looking to be a rather annoying problem, too, as he angrily stomped out of the sixteen-year-olds section, smoke practically pouring out of his ears. "Fuck you all!" Faustia heard him holler. "What, you didn't want to give another one of your fucking _Careers_ a chance at dying? Well, thanks for the fucking _opportunity!_ I'm grateful as hell!"

Yes, very annoying indeed.

Danica tried to wrap up the affair quickly, not even having Faustia and Ash shake hands. Which was probably a good thing. Faustia wasn't afraid of anyone, especially not an angry sixteen-year-old that was acting like a little kid, but she didn't want to set a bad reputation for herself and her District partner before the Games even started. That was for sobbing District rats.

 _Well, fuck you too!_ Ash thought towards Danica, giving her a glare, glaring at Faustia-the-Career, glaring at the mayor and the mentors, glaring at anyone that he could find. _What, you had to send me in? I hope you're fucking happy._

* * *

As was tradition, the first people that visited Faustia were in her year at the training center. Faustia felt much more friendly towards them now that she had succeeded over them in becoming the Tribute. She had done the most to campaign and had always stood out in training, so she wasn't exactly surprised, but still...it was nice to have confirmation.

Still, the people from the training center weren't exactly memorable, and when ten minutes were up, Faustia was glad to see Livia come in. She and her older sister, who was twenty-two, had grown apart ever since Livia moved out and started working in the District offices as a mayoral assistant. But then again, that had just made it easier for Faustia to be the one to train.

"So, you're actually going in," Livia said, as if she didn't quite believe it.

"You say that like a bad thing."

"I'm just worried about you."

Faustia gave her sister a small smile. "You don't need to be."

"There's gonna be some serious competition."

"Not enough to take me down."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure enough."

Livia looked as though she didn't know what to say. "Mother and Father will be here soon," she finally said. "I should get back to work."

"Then do."

Livia did not move from her seat.

"Livia. I'm not going to die," Faustia told her sister. "Maybe you feel like you have some responsibility to stay, but I'll be back. You can go."

"I don't want to waste the time we have left," Livia said.

"I'm not going to die!"

There was a ringing silence left in the room. As far as Faustia could remember, this was the first time she had really shown much emotion in front of Livia in three years.

"Please don't," Livia whispered, her voice slightly cracking. She was standing up now, her back turned away from Faustia.

"Livia...are you crying?"

But Livia was already gone.

Luckily, Faustia didn't have to concentrate on that too much. Her parents, Ajax and Penelope, entered the room not two minutes after Livia had exited. Ajax immediately enveloped her in a hug. "Faustia. I'm so proud of you."

Faustia hugged him back. For years, training had forced her to emotionally distance herself from her parents to make herself stronger. But now, in this last hour, she had been given free reign. "Thank you so much, Father. I couldn't have done it without you. And you, Mother." And it was completely true. Without their hard work, Faustia would never have been able to pay her way through training. Ajax, a quarrier, and Penelope, a nurse, had allowed themselves to live in poverty just to put Faustia through training. And without training, Faustia had no idea who she was. Her entire person was based on the sacrifices of her parents.

"Remember everything we taught you," Faustia's mother told her. "Remember everything that you know. You're a strong, brave young woman, Faustia. I can't...I can't even tell you how proud we are. We love you. So much."

"From now on, it's not whether you live or die," her father reminded her. "It's about how you serve the District, and how you serve the Capitol."

Penelope finished for her husband. "But come back. Please."

Faustia nodded. "I understand. I love you both." She drew back and looked at her parents. Her mother's brown curls that matched Faustia's. Her father's freckles that had found a place in her face. The way that she and her father had the same lean, muscular forms from so much physical work. Faustia felt pride at the fact that she truly was her parents' daughter. They didn't see each other much since Penelope and Ajax worked so much, but Faustia was able to understand that they truly loved her.

"Do you have a token?"

Faustia nodded, taking an old, faded piece of paper out of the pocket of her frayed jacket. It was her parents, on their wedding day. They looked young, overjoyed. Faustia wanted to remember that kind of love and happiness throughout the horror that she knew was coming.

Her mother was smiling with a fierce pride. Her father was starting to cry, grinning, shaking his head.

"I'll come back. I love you."

"Time to go," a Peacekeeper said respectfully, shaking hands with Penelope and Ajax on their way out, and giving Faustia an encouraging nod. After all, he had been involved in the training program when he was young as well. He understood her sacrifice.

* * *

The first person to visit Ash was his father. He stormed into the room, throwing something into Ash's face. It bounced, fell, and hit the carpet. Ash picked it up. It was a locket. He looked at his father, confused. "What the hell?"

His father glared at him. "How dare you!"

"What?"

"You have humiliated us! It was bad enough that you insisted on getting in fights and on insulting everything that this District stands for. But now you had to go and get yourself picked! You've ruined this family!"

"No much of us left," Ash pointed out.

A look of shock overtook his father's face. Then, pure fury. "Shut up, you useless boy," his father hissed. "I don't know why I ever had hopes for you."

Ash thrust the locket back towards his father. "Take it. I don't want it."

"It was your mother's."

"So? That doesn't mean _anything._ "

Though he did not accept the locket back, his father gave a small, bitter nod. That was the one thing that they could agree on. Ash's mother was a huge disappointment. His father was a disappointment, too. And Ash was a disappointment to his father. Not that it was his fault. No matter what he did, his father refused to respect him!

"Don't you have places to be?" Ash spat.

"I do. I just thought that you might be grateful, for once in your life, that I at least came to visit you."

"You don't care!"

"It would be nice to see you one last time before you die!" His father was enraged now. Ash felt his own blood boiling, his temper rising to match his father's. He felt as though he could kill someone right now, hopefully the man in front of him. His father turned on his heel, slamming the door so hard it shook before leaving.

 _Before I die...so that's what he thinks? That stupid asshole._

 _I'll prove him wrong._

For the better part of the next hour, Ash watched the door, hoping that Robin would come. They had a strange on-again, off-again relationship. No one in their District loved the fact that they were in a relationship, but then again, no one really cared. As long as Robin and Ash both kept their work good, the fact that they were in a homosexual relationship didn't matter. After all, it was District 2. All that mattered was how well you worked.

 _Fuck this place. I'm actually_ glad _to be leaving._

Finally, Robin came in, looking slightly distressed. His eyes were red, like he'd been crying. "I can't believe you got picked."

Ash shrugged, tears starting to prick at his own eyes. "We joked about it too much. It jinxed us."

"I just don't get why…"

"They hate me."

"But Ash…"

"They hate me because I hate them. It's not like I've ever tried to hide it."

"Ash…"

Ash laughed humorlessly. "You were right all along. I should have kept my mouth shut."

"You wouldn't be you without running off your mouth at all the worst moments."

"Fair enough."

And then suddenly they were kissing, desperately, angrily. Ash tried to find the joy in it. He tried to catalogue the wild happiness of this bitter, horrible moment away for the weeks that he knew were coming.

"You better come back, Ash," Robin said. Ash was almost surprised. A lot of the time, Robin acted like he didn't care about Ash, their relationship, or really anything at all. Ash was surprised by Robin's sudden intensity.

Ash swallowed. "I'll try my best."

"Do you have a token?"

Ash held up the locket. "My mother's."

Robin nodded. "Good. Listen...you're from Two. Join the Careers."

"Why would I want to be in a group with those assholes? You know how much I hate him! Hell, Little Miss Training won't even let me in anyway. She hates me."

"So don't antagonize her. Do whatever you have to do to join them. Or at least...stay safe. Don't become a target."

"Why are you so smart?" Ash sarcastically grumbled.

"I just can't help it," Robin replied.

"The perfect human being." Ash rolled his eyes. "See you on the other side."

"Okay." Robin furrowed his brows. "Um…"

"Yeah. I just got how weird that sounded."

Robin snorted. "You'll make it through."

"Yeah?"

"You're enough of an asshole to do it."

"I couldn't have put it better myself."

* * *

Faustia watched her District partner, observing him silently, until he turned and scowled at her. She glared at him. He was not going to get off easy for all of the insults to the Victors and Careers that he had given.

Ash glared back at her, disregarding Robin's warnings. He wasn't going to compromise his ideals, which were completely in the right, just to get on Faustia's good side. He kept picking at the locket, trying to open it, as he had been for the last half-hour.

As he stepped onto the train, it finally fell open.

It was empty.

He could not help the irritated sigh he had let out. What was he expecting, anyway?

 _It's gonna be a long fucking ride._

* * *

 **Tributes:**

D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)  
D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

3 down. Thanks to iinfiniteskies and Bastetmoon for this District's interesting bunch!

We still need the D5M and the females from Districts 10-12. Tell us your thoughts on this chapter through a review! We'd love to know who you guys preferred as well, and the stuff you liked and didn't like about them. Until next update!


	5. Things That Are Broken

**District 9**

Silvian Mare was a freak show. Everyone knew it. With his red-colored skin and green hair, he was honestly hard to look at without squinting. He was covered in piercings and tattoos and not enough clothes, no matter how hot it was in District 9. His ridiculous shoes, blue and white with wheels on the bottom, took him sliding over to the first podium. He looked remarkably poised as he opened the first envelope.

"Florence Channing!"

 _And scene._

Florence took in as deep a breath as she could without indicating that something was wrong to the people around her. She had been prepared for this opportunity, but that wasn't surprising—Florence was always prepared for whatever life could come up with to throw at her.

So her luck had taken a bad turn this time around—and that was what it was. Luck. Not karma, or whatever the people of her District might say. But that was fine. It was just another opportunity for her. District 9 had become pretty _limiting_ anyway, as the people around her seemed to realize something was off.

 _Going into the Games might be the best thing that has ever happened to me._

Florence arranged her face as well as she could. Some fear, some sadness, mostly confusion. She blinked twice, as if not quite sure what was going on around her. She had to convince her entire District—as well as all of the people who were watching—that she was an innocent person.

 _But who is there left to convince?_

Florence let her shoulders curl in slightly as she approached the stage, squeezing some tears out of the corners of her eyes and taking a sniff. She might not have been some blonde-haired, slim, wispy beauty from District 1, but she knew how to work her body language and facial features to make people feel sorry for her. After all, she needed that ability, what with her lifestyle.

Florence was all too aware of the people around her starting to grin. She threw a longing glance over her shoulder, finding her parents, who looked shocked. But Cassie, her younger sister, was grinning as well. Florence forced herself not to break character, and let a small sob out. She just had to play her part.

"I'm F-Florence," Florence told Silvian, watching the confusion spread across his face. She almost smiled. _How hard would it be to kill him...no. He's too prominent._

"Wonderful!" He slid away from her to the other envelope. "And our male...Kronos Malakai!"

 _Yes!_ Kronos grinned. He was finally getting his chance to break out of the District he had grown up in. After Sarah had disappeared over a year ago, it had become obvious that there wasn't a place for him in District 9. Frankly, Kronos was surprised that the Peacekeepers hadn't come for him yet.

But he had finally, definitively escaped them. He had gone as far as to ask people to vote for him. But most of the votes had probably come from the hate District 9 had for him. He was aware of people glaring at him as he passed, but kept his back straight and his head up. His features may have been plain, even compared to some of the handsomer boys in the District, but he had high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and white-blond hair that combined gave him regal features. His face split into a smile as he mounted the stage, but as he turned to Silvian, he tried to turn it into something more terrifying. Silvian flinched, so Kronos felt successful.

Kronos took the microphone from him, and turned to the audience. "Thank you for the opportunity," he drawled. "I'm sure that we'll all be very happy when I get back."

A wave of apprehension seemed to go through the crowd, and Kronos realized that they must not have realized that he was going to come back. They had voted him into the Games with the intention of him dying.

But he wasn't going to die.

He was going to back, just as angry as ever, with the prestige and money to make him the most powerful person in the District.

* * *

Priya somehow made it to the goodbye room before Florence's parents did. "Florence, why did they vote you in?" she asked, completely confused, and ready to cry. "I won't have a friend anymore! I'll miss you so much!"

Florence was ready to deal with Priya's crap right now. Priya was an idiot, which was the only reason that she hung around Florence anyway. But Florence had no tolerance for idiocy now. No matter how big of an opportunity the Games were, she could still very well die. She couldn't get dragged down by _anything._

So Florence dropped her facade completely, hoping that some of her madness was showing in her eyes and face and body. "I think you know why I'm going in."

Priya looked hesitant. "No, I don't! There's no reason—"

"Even an unintelligent cow like you can remember the whole Jeff thing." Jeff duVal, a student who had been a year older than them, was the person that had forced Florence to get very, very smart about her actions so that people didn't start accusing her of murder again. The allegations were completely true, of course, but Florence had avoided them, and Priya didn't believe them at all.

"But that wasn't—"

"I think I'll tear out your eyes first." Florence knew she was going too far, knew that she needed to keep up a mask so that Priya wouldn't report anything to her parents, but she needed Priya to leave now. "If you don't die from that, your hands are next. And then your arms. And then I'll just tear out your heart."

Priya was incredibly pale. "Flor...Florence?"

Florence giggled. "Kidding!"

"Bye, Florence."

"I'll see you when I get back!"

As soon as Priya left, Florence's family was there. Her parents were already crying as they entered the goodbye room. Cassie was trailing behind them, looking reluctant, holding something in her hand. She was almost smiling. She probably thought that she was free. _Ha._

Florence forced herself to start crying. "Oh, Mom. Oh, Dad."

"Florence...I don't understand…"

"Me n-either, Mom! But I promise...I'll t-try! I'll fight! Really hard!"

Florence's parents enfolded her in a hug. Florence's father was the next to speak. "I know what people say about you. But we've never believed it."

"Really?" Florence asked. She knew immediately that her inflection was too angry, too bitter. "Thank you, Daddy," she said, trying to rectify her mistake. She couldn't risk stumbling on the finish line, even if it wasn't quite the finish line yet.

Her mother looked at her as if worried. "Flo...just let us know...we won't think of you differently...but are the rumors true?"

Florence gasped, beginning to get angry over the use of her nickname. She drew back from her parents. "Of course not! How could you think that?"

"No, of course they're wrong!" her mother immediately said. "Remember, we love you."

Florence smiled at them through the few fake tears she had squeezed out of her eyes. "And I love you. So much." She knew that in their eyes, she couldn't do wrong. She was their first child to have lived beyond a year, and she always made sure to act angelic whenever she was around them. It really made it too easy to spend time out of the house doing questionable things, all too easy to mess with Cassie.

Speaking of…

Florence looked at Cassie, making her voice sound thick. "Oh, Cassie. Can I have a hug?"

Cassie's smile melted off of her face as she nervously came up to Florence and put her arms around her.

"Don't be shy," Florence hissed in her ear, digging her nails into Cassie's back. "Remember, I'll be watching you."

"No, you w-wont," Cassie stuttered.

Florence gave a small giggle. "Remember, Cassie. I'm always watching." She hoped that Cassie remembered all of the nights that Florence had snuck into her room, or been outside, tapping on the window. Maybe Florence's efforts seemed a bit too much in hindsight, but it was worth it to make Cassie doubt herself. She had always tried to steal Florence's thunder. Just like Draven. But Florence couldn't handle another Draven situation, not when it had made her parents so aggrieved that they had become...suspicious.

Cassie drew back from her. "I t-think it's t-t-time that they k-knew the truth, don't you, Flo?"

Florence gave her younger sister the biggest grin that she could manage, quirking her eyebrows in the manner that she did whenever she had berries or blood dripping from her mouth and made sure that Cassie understood how precarious her life was. Cassie flinched. Their parents, idiots that they were, didn't even notice. They were too focused on Florence, surely thinking about how strong she was being for her little sister in the face of grief.

Cassie thrust her hand forward. "I have a token for you."

Florence took it. It was a picture of Draven.

Her vision went red. She almost launched herself at Cassie, ready to tear the nine-year-old girl's throat out, but quickly brought her breath and heartbeat under control. She mustered an angsty face again. "Oh...thank you, Cassie," she whispered. "Now I'll be able to remember him."

Florence's mother was crying now, the _moron_ that she was, totally convinced that her daughter loved her dead brother so much that she wanted to take a picture of him into the Games. And why not let that be the implication. _I always win,_ Florence thought as she looked into Cassie's eyes, hoping that the girl got the message. "Thank you for the reminder," she said once more.

And why wouldn't Florence want a reminder? Who wanted to forget their first kill?

* * *

A mother who died giving birth to him. A friend whose whereabouts were unknown. No siblings, either. Kronos would be lying if he said he was expecting many visitors. He merely had his father Isaac, and a feral dog who served the role of his sole friend. It did not bother him that much, however. Though he was well-known in the District, he was aware of the fact that it was not quite for positive reasons.

Deep into thought, he did not notice a coat of midnight fastly approaching him.

The dog who tackled him took him by surprise, but he quickly recovered, beginning to hug and stroke his back as he began to lick his face.

He did not immediately notice his father behind his friend, either.

"'Thought you would appreciate another visitor before you left." The words surprised him as well.

"You thought right, Father," he simply replied.

Isaac grunted in acknowledgment.

An awkward, short silence followed after that. It was not like they had a bad, even strained relationship or anything like that. They simply were not the typical father and son with a close bond. Isaac, a reaper in the fields, was kept busy year-round. Kronos sometimes worked with him, but not very often. Then again, after his mother, Lucille, had died, Isaac was the only parental figure that Kronos had left. Kronos was grateful that Isaac hadn't abandoned him when he was still young.

He continued feeling the dog's black fur in his hands, thinking if and when he would be able to do it once more.

"Listen, Kronos. I know we both know that you have what it takes to come back, but I wish you luck nonetheless."

"I appreciate you saying that, father. I suppose I could almost say my time in the fields with you led to this opportunity. I am confident that my skills in wielding a sickle and scythe would serve as a great advantage to me. Even though I've never used them on a person." He said those last few words quite ominously, like he would have no problem in changing that fact.

"I'm sure the fact you wanted to join these Games means you definitely have enough confidence." He paused then asked, "Have you got a token?"

Shoving his hand in the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out a small, silver coin. "Nothing too fancy, but it'll work."

His father nodded.

"I'm not promising that I'll be coming back, but I believe I'll at least be able to put on a good show." He paused. "But in the scenario I don't come back, watch over him for me," he said, gesturing to the dog in front of him.

"Alright, then."

He made his friend face him, making him stare at his icy, green eyes.

"'Guess this is goodbye for now."

The three stayed in almost complete silence for the time they had left.

* * *

The Tributes walked to the train with their mentors and Silvian in silence. No one talked even as they entered the vehicle and found their seats. Similar thoughts ran in their minds, however.

This was their chance to do something noteworthy, something that would force people to remember them. Maybe even something that would give them the thrill they had been longing for.

Florence might have already had the blood of two on her hands, but Kronos was looking forward to the look some Careers' faces when he sliced their chests open. After all, they could do a lot of things they would not be able to do in the bore of District 9. _Take lives and get away with it_. They were definitely going to make the most out of the opportunity. How much did they have to lose, after all?

 _Looks like it's time to have a little fun._

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**

 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**

 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **We're done with one third of our Reapings already? That's pretty cool. Thanks to Aldon Blackreyne and psychopathic bears for this duo. They're quite similar, aren't they? Share your thoughts about these guys! Who did you like better, and what about them stood out? Any predictions?**

 **We still are looking for the D11F! We'd love any submissions that come our way. One more slot! Join us, it'll be fun!**

 **Until next update!**


	6. Hall of Infamy

**District 6**

Zinnia Aurum just wanted to get it over with. She had been in this escort business for seven years now, and yet she still just _had_ to be stuck with some boring, dirty outer District. Why couldn't she just be with those Career Districts instead? They would probably be a lot more exciting anyway.

Sighing, she stepped forward towards the microphone and plastered a sickly sweet smile on her face. "As you all have been told, this year is _very_ special since it is the Games' 25th! One quarter century of the Hunger Games! How exciting!" She was met with blank stares and empty expressions. "Ahem. Anyway, to remind you of the year's twist, your Tributes are chosen by you. Now, let us see which of these lovely girls would be going to the Games."

Percival began to wonder who it would be. There was that Anderson girl who stole from a number of wealthy aristocrats. Or perhaps Lydia Humer, who was said to have started the fire in that factory that killed many workers? _The families of those who died definitely wouldn't forget something like that_ , he thought. Lost in thoughts, he almost didn't hear the name that was actually called.

"Zoe Winter!" The sound pierced the silence.

 _The Winter girl, of course._

Hailing right from the slums of District 6, the Winters were far from a typical family. They were more of a gang, even, with her father as the leader. Her uncles and aunts ranged from thieves to assassins. Needless to say, they weren't the most well-loved people of the District.

Zoe wasn't particularly surprised that she had been chosen. The Winters were a notorious family, and recently, the Winters themselves had been turning on her due to the ideas that Zoe had expressed. Zoe caught sight of one of her cousins standing behind her in the crowd. Zoe sighed, gave a small shrug, and made her way up to the stage.

Being chosen might turn out being the best thing that ever happened to her, after all. She was free of her family. And Zoe was strong. She thought that she had a genuine chance to win. And that all started now.

She flashed a small wink at the camera as she made her way up to the stage. Zoe knew that she was attractive. Most of the time, it meant horrifying things for her. But Zoe could use it. More importantly, she could be the one that was offering herself up. Not her father. Not her family. Not anyone else.

She flashed Zinnia an attractive smile with her pearly-white teeth, impressive for District 6, and took her place on the stage. Cheers rose up from the crowd. Zoe located her mother, who was glaring at the crowd. Zoe imagined that her father was glaring at her instead. But that all needed to take second precedence. The identity of her District partner would determine a lot for her. But who would it be? Her father had talked about voting for Theo Calum, the son of a rival gang leader. And then there was Ny MacCallister, who everyone knew was a mole for the Capitol. Or maybe—

"Percival Pisani!"

 _Of course. The Pisani boy._

Percival Pisani had worked on the train lines, not too uncommon for people in District 6. However, it was widely accepted that he was responsible for the Line 7 Incident. Even a person as detached as Zoe could find some horror in her for that event. The Winter family facilitated chaos for a purpose. The Line 7 Incident had been chaos and destruction with no payoff whatsoever.

Well, not exactly. The payoff stood before her. Theo Calum could face down the assassins sent after him. Ny MacCallister could face down the hate of the District that would no doubt kill him one day. But Percival Pisani...Percival could go in against her. And then, only the Gamemakers could determine the outcome.

Percival's mind was blank with fear and horror. "No," he whispered. Everyone was looking at him. He could see the laughter and appreciation in their eyes…"No!" he yelled, much louder this time.

The Line 7 Incident. That must have been it. But—"It wasn't me!" Percival screamed. "It wasn't me!" He broke free of the sixteen-year-olds section. There was a clear path up to the crowd, and from there, Percival was sure that he could find a way out. He started running.

It wasn't him! It wasn't his fault! Why couldn't anyone see that? It wasn't _fair!_ He wasn't supposed to be the Tribute. Someone else could go up there.

But then there were hands on his shoulders. Percival was well-aware of how to defend himself. You didn't grow up as a train worker and not know how to take care of yourself. Percival kicked backwards, coming into contact with a human. He broke free of the grip, shoving his way through the crowd. His hands met with resistance.

Someone grabbed him, and before Percival could react, there was another Peacekeeper beside him. The Peacekeeper dragged him up to the stage. "No! No!" Percival yelled. His eyes suddenly made contact with a young boy standing in the crowd. "It wasn't me!" Percival screamed, directing it at that one child. "It wasn't me! _You're_ wrong! You're all wrong!"

The Peacekeeper roughly escorted him up the stairs to the stage. How could he escape now? There were Peacekeepers at every staircase. Percival imagined jumping off of the stage. But then his eyes found the machine guns on top of the Justice Building. They were trained on him. Percival's heart felt as though it would burst out of his chest. He was going to die.

 _No! I can't die!_

Zoe was smirking at Percival, and Zinnia looked embarrassed and rather angry. "Zoe Silver and Percival Pisani!" she announced, before stomping off the stage.

* * *

Angelica was the first person in the goodbye room, and Zoe gratefully fell into her arms. Angelica Turner had been a steadfast friend to Zoe for years, listening to what Zoe had to say, never running away from Zoe like all of the other people at school eventually had. Zoe had even met Nathan through Angelica, but after all, Nathan and Angelica had been siblings.

 _Oh, Nathan._

Zoe refused to let herself cry. But she felt tears pricking at her eyes. What would Nathan say, if he was here?

He'd tell her not to give up on life. That was what he always did. But with Zoe going into the Hunger Games, the end of her life felt very near. What was the point of fighting? There was no way that that Gamemakers would let a girl like her survive. She was from a powerful slum family, a gang known as the Skulls, and no doubt an annoyance to the Capitol. She was strong. She wasn't afraid to do what she had to do to survive. And that made her into the antagonist of the Games. And really, wasn't that who she was? The Winters were antagonists.

"Oh, Zo-Zo."

"Shut up," Zoe groaned at hearing the nickname, though her voice was muffled due to her head being buried in Angelica's shoulder. Angelica gave a course chuckle, but there were tears in her eyes.

"You've gotta come back, Zo-Zo."

"Why?" Zoe was almost surprised by the desolate emptiness of her voice. It was no secret that the grief she felt after Nathan's death had consumed her nearly completely. It was no secret that Zoe had wanted to die for a long time, and that she wasn't sure if she wasn't still suicidal. But Zoe had felt the fight left in her during the Reaping. So why couldn't she muster it up now?

"Why not?" Angelica said.

Nathan had always told Zoe to keep on living. That tomorrow was a whole new day, a whole new life, and that she deserved happiness. That she had to live to find her happiness. _Well, wasn't Nathan my happiness? And he's gone. Forever._

"Listen to me, Zoe. Even if you don't want to come back for me, come back to _destroy_ your family."

"Destroying the Skull? What an amazing idea. Too bad it's hopeless."

"As a Victor? You'd be able to."

"They're my family," Zoe sarcastically reminded Angelica.

"I'm your family. And if you're not going to come back for anything else, at least come back because _he_ would have wanted you to." Angelica was practically crying, and Zoe remembered that no matter how agonized she had been at the loss of Nathan, Angelica had lost her older brother. "You come back to us, Zo-Zo. You come back because I know you have the _ability_ to do it, and so if you don't, it's because you gave up. And you don't give up, Zoe."

Angelica reached into her pocket, pulling out a picture. It was Nathan and Zoe, on the day Nathan had turned 19 and escaped the Reaping forever. Of course, Nathan had died three months later...but the two of them looked so happy. Young. Innocent. Full of life.

"Oh, Angie."

"Shut up," Angelica said at the nickname, giving a shuddering laugh. All of the memorabilia of Zoe and Nathan's relationship had stayed at the Turner house, due to the unaccepting nature of Zoe's family, especially her father, Richard. Zoe assumed that Angelica had thrown out all of it once Nathan had died. And why would she have? After all, Nathan wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for the Skull. Rather, he wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for Zoe.

It meant so much that Angelica had kept around the memories. It meant that Nathan wouldn't die.

"But where are you?" Zoe asked.

Angelica gave her hand a squeeze. "Back."

Zoe turned it over. _Zo-Zo,_ it read, _Fight. Win. You've got this. Come back to us. I love ya._

"Thanks, Angie," Zoe said.

The lack of Nathan hung between them like a landmine. Zoe wanted Nathan with her now. She wanted his comfort. But if she died...wasn't it better that he didn't have to deal with it!

 _Not that I want him dead! But if he's already dead...then why can't I just join him?_

* * *

No one came to visit Percival. Not that he was surprised. As was the case with many desperately poor families in District 6, Percival had been sold to a baggage train when he was young. He hadn't seen his family in years. He knew that his mother was still alive, and that he had several younger siblings, but none of the remaining Pisanis would want to associate themselves with him.

 _But it wasn't my fault! Why can't anyone_ see _that?_

Also unsurprising was the fact that no one from the train had come to see him. The cargo carrier that Percival had spent most of his life on was an unforgiving place, and Percival had been thrown off of it two months ago after the Line 7 Incident.

 _Not my fault, not my fault…_

Still, the fact that no one was there was slightly disappointing. Percival clenched his fists. He wasn't going to cry. There wasn't anyone left that deserved his tears.

But Percival wished that there was.

He missed having a family. Not that the people on the cargo carrier had been much of one, especially the supervisors, but there had been some camaraderie between all of the children on the train and at the stations. They were the lowest of the low, the scum of the District, and that meant that they were a sort of family.

 _The Scum clan..._ Percival thought. _I wonder how we'd stand up to the Skull. Heh. I bet that we'd have them running within hours._

Percival shook that thought out of his head. He wasn't ready to think about something so close to home. In a few days, he, the Scum, would be up against Zoe. The Winter girl. The Skull.

"Your hour's up, kid." Percival couldn't see the Peacekeeper's face through the armor, but he had no doubt that the Peacekeeper was completely unsympathetic to him. Percival stood up, feeling limp and washed-out. All thoughts of escape had fled from him as quickly as Percival wished that he could flee the District.

His eyes widened as he exited the goodbye room. Coming out of the room down the hall was Cecelia Winter, followed by her husband, Richard. Percival instinctively made himself small. When you were around the powerful, you made yourself a smaller target. That's what Percival had learned from spending years around rich, powerful people who treated him like some kind of mutt.

Zoe exited the room behind her parents, and she did not look happy. She was screaming something at them. "Get out! I never want to see you again!" Percival felt involuntary fear on Zoe's behalf. You didn't just scream things at the Skull without some serious repercussions. But then again, Zoe was their child.

Percival swallowed. He had forgotten that Zoe was just that—a Skull. She could kill him. Easily. And none of Percival's experience would keep him alive. He would have to stay on her good side.

 _This is all happening so fast_ — _and I shouldn't even be in the Games!_

"You won't ever see us again!" Cecelia Winter screamed back at her. "Because you'll be dead, you bitch! And for your sake, I hope that it's quick, but it won't be! Enjoy yourself!"

Percival's eyes found Richard Winter's face. He looked horrifyingly calm. There was a look of cold rage on his face. "You're a traitor, Zoe," he said.

"No!" Zoe screamed. "You're just a horrible father! A horrible person!"

"I do what I need to do to keep myself—and the people that I love—alive. I don't betray the people that depend on me."

"Shut—Shut up!"

"Time is _up!_ " an annoyed Peacekeeper said. "Let's go!" He grabbed Zoe by the arm, but Zoe shook him off.

"Don't touch me!"

"Then move!"

The Winters watched their daughter leave.

Zinnia rushed them onto the train. "We're already late!"

"Well, I'm _sorry,_ " Zoe snapped.

Percival snorted.

He thought that he saw a look of surprise in her eyes. Maybe even appreciation.

 _It doesn't matter,_ Percival reminded himself. _It's one of us or the other._

And he had a nasty feeling that he would be the one to die.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**

 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**

 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**

 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **Whaddya think? Like? Dislike? Send us your feedback through a review! All is welcome and super appreciated. Seriously, we love reviews.**

 **Thanks to calebbeers21 and spiderjerky for these Tributes. We hope they were portrayed to your liking.**

 **Until next time!**


	7. In Another World, Innocence

**District 3**

Zelleck Torralinna did not waste any time with ceremony or unnecessary frills as he made his way up to the stage, something that the people of District 3 could appreciate, even if they hated everything about Zelleck and everything that he represented. He tore open the first envelope. "Zara Kapoor!"

 _I'm not mad. I'm not mad._

And yet Zara began glaring at the people around her. She reached deep into herself, trying to find forgiveness for the people around her, and couldn't come across anything but anger and betrayal. She stomped out of the fifteen-year-olds section and onto the stage, unintentionally bumping into her cousin Riya in the process. Too filled with anger to notice, she tried her hardest to let her flimsy shoes make a loud impact on the pavement.

She was aware of the fact that people didn't like her. She tried to accept their point of view, no matter how utterly _wrong_ they were. Unfortunately for her, her family's strong devotion to their beliefs was no match for the technology and science-based place that was District 3.

The blank expressions in the crowd not at all surprised her.

 _A Kapoor girl,_ Cabe thought. He had seen her around school before, even having a brief memory of the girl proclaiming technology was not the greatest power ever know to man, rather these so-called gods. It was a pretty unconventional thought, to say the least. _Too bad it wasn't one of the Kapoor_ boys, _though. Oh, wait, that's a horrible thought. But it's just logic, right?_

As soon as Zara reached the stage, Zelleck once again unceremoniously tore open an envelope, the sound of paper ripping filling the silence.

"And our _lucky_ boy is one Cabe Corda!"

 _The Corda boy,_ Zara thought to herself. Everyone knew that poor boy's story. The Kapoors had offered help to the Cordas after the death of Statica and the subsequent angry backlash of the District, though the Cordas had been little more than angry. Zara genuinely felt sorry for Cabe.

But now he was her competition.

Cabe, for his part, silently made his way to the stage. He kept his head high. He understood why people had voted for him. Yes, he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. _But that's just a psychological effect. I'm fine physically. I just have to remember that._ He took deep breaths, trying to keep his head about him. He just had to play it smart.

 _Oh, Capitol…_

But what did playing it smart matter anymore? He was going into the Games. He was going to die.

 _I'm going to die._

"Zara Kapoor and Cabe Corda, everyone."

A polite cheer from the District.

And then it was all over.

* * *

The Kapoor family crowded themselves into the goodbye room. It was headed by Zara's immediate family: her mother and father, and her siblings, Arav, Lemma, and Adah. Behind them were Zara's close aunts and uncles, and her five closest cousins, most importantly, Riya. Riya and Zara may have seen things differently, and Riya may have avoided Zara at school due to the reputation that Zara had for quick anger, but that didn't change the fact that they were both Kapoor girls in a District that was against them. For once in her life, Riya had an angry expression on her face.

Adah, Zara's youngest sister at eleven, was the first to speak. "Bahan!" she exclaimed, using the word for sister and throwing herself into Zara's arms. "Why are you going!"

Zara shrugged. "People don't like me."

"So? That doesn't mean that you should be going!" Adah was crying now. "You're going to die, Zara!"

There was a general intake of breath. Zara's grandmother pulled Adah back. "Adah. We have to have hope. Zara is strong. Zara is aware of the forces that guide us. Zara can come back."

Zara looked around, a part of her despising the faces that so obviously believed that she was going to be brought back by whatever divine force the Kapoors had dedicated their lives to. Never mind that their religion had sent her away in the first place. The Kapoors followed a faith from long before the pre-Panem days, a faith that told them to strive for truth, dharma, moksha, the many gods, and the Vedas.

And embarrassingly, Zara started to cry. She felt her mother's arms surround her, and while she normally hated being treated like a child, she practically melted into the hug. "Amma. Oh, Amma."

"Zara. Zara, listen to me, my beautiful girl. You just have to have faith."

"But Amma!"

"Zara."

Zara's grandfather, the patriarch of the Kapoors, was standing in front of her. "Zara, here's your token." He reached towards her, holding something. Zara put out her hand, and he placed in it a small rock. Zara vaguely recognized it. The adults in her family all had something resembling one. Zara closed her fist. She would be able to take her faith with her. Maybe she didn't accept it as completely as everyone else did, but still.

 _Who am I kidding? I doubt it. Riya doesn't doubt it. Arav and Lemma and Adah don't doubt it. Is my punishment for doubting being sent into the Games?_ Zara was really crying now. _No! Right? That can't be it. I just have to be forgiving. This is my fate, but I can forgive the people who gave it to me. That's all that I have left._

"Zara, do you know what it is?"

Zara shook her head. She couldn't speak.

"Before Panem even existed, when there were still other places in the world—"

Zara looked around for cameras, for listening devices. "Tata...be...be careful…"

"Zara, these stones were called banalingas. They represented earthly happiness."

"Something that we're kind of lacking," Zara choked out. Lemma sighed, placing a hand on Zara's shoulder. Tata gave an indulgent nod.

"I wouldn't say so. We have a wonderful family, don't we? We have all that we could wish for."

Zara knew better than to remind them that she was going to die. She let Tata continued. "They were the stone of water. Of the golden flower tree. Bel leaves."

"Shiva," Zara said.

"Yes. Of Shiva. Now, real banalingas come from the Narmada River. But that doesn't exist anymore. All that we can send you off with is this version of it. But it will keep you safe. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because it has our love in it. Our love for you. It has faith. Faith in you. Faith from us."

"I love you," Adah said.

And then all of Zara's family was reassuring her that she was loved, she was wanted, she would be missed, that they had real hope for her safe return—

"Time's up."

And suddenly, it was all gone.

* * *

Cabe was aware of the Peacekeepers standing much too close for comfort as he walked into the Justice Building, towards the goodbye room. Without warning, he kicked out and knocked over a chair. It slammed against the ground, echoing loudly in the cold, stone hallway.

He winced at the noise, and at his action. "I'm sorry." And then that felt almost worse. How was he going to survive the Games if he was so scared of offending anyone?

 _I'm not scared of offending anyone! I'm just polite. There's a difference._

And then Cabe was ushered into the room, and locked in. It wasn't long before his parents got there. Mother was sobbing. Big, heaving sobs that seemed to wrench through her body. Dramatic. _Sometimes I wonder if she does it for attention. But there's no one here but Father and I, so that can't be it._ Cabe felt strangely detached. _Well, I'm probably in shock._

His gaze found Father, who looked completely emotionless as well. Father had lost his brother, Statica, in the last year as well. _Without me, he'll just have Mother. Not that that's bad, or anything. But it's going to get awkward for him, isn't it?_ Cabe was relatively sure that his Father had a mistress, though he wasn't going to say anything to Mother about it.

Cabe and his father seemed to have been locked into a staring contest, and then Cabe recalled the strange nature of the Games as if he was underwater trying to listen to shouts. He felt tired. Numb. But he could at least bring up some small sense of betrayal at the fact that his father's actions must have sent him into the Games. After all, who had Cabe ever hurt? It was true that everyone acted as though they despised him. But that was all a result of his father's actions as a factory supervisor as well.

 _Right? I mean, what have I ever done to hurt anyone?_

"Oh, Cabe!"

Mother broke the staring contest by throwing herself at Cabe, wrapping him in a hug. Cabe hugged back tightly, not ready to accept the fact that he was going to a place where Mother couldn't follow him. The two of them were close. Mother sheltered him from the world, and Cabe in turn gave her a lot of the love that she lacked from her husband. Cabe didn't want to imagine what was going to happen to Mother, one of the only people that he could trust. He had to make it through. For her.

"Mother," Cabe started, and then dissolved into tears. He was aware of his father watching with a kind of disgust, as if emotion was something completely foreign and horrifying.

"Cabe! Cabe, we'll do something! We'll get them to send someone else in! I promise!"

"No." His father's voice was too quiet and flat for the charged room. "It's over. Cabe, you're going in. The most you can do now is survive."

 _And you_ — _you don't even care!_ Cabe opened his mouth, ready to shout, but couldn't do it. His father terrified him. And really, Cabe wasn't a shouter. He couldn't bring himself to be so rude to someone he actually respected. _I need you to love me, Father. I hate myself for it, but I need it._ Cabe couldn't choke out anything in the end, anyway. He closed his mouth, choosing to focus on Mother.

"Mother…" his voice was small. "What do I do?"

"Train hard. The people in the Capitol will love you, you'll see! And you'll fight hard. You're such a smart boy. You can win."

 _This doesn't seem like a good plan...but…_ "Mother, are you sure?"

"Do whatever it takes, Cabe!" Mother was practically screaming. "Just come home! It doesn't matter what you do! Just come home!"

Both of them were sobbing now, hugging each other so close it was almost like they were a single crying person, letting out grief and betrayal and indignation and confusion and lost wishes.

"Mother...I'll try."

"You'll win, Cabe!"

"I love you."

"I love you. My perfect boy. You're coming back, Cabe."

A Peacekeeper entered the room, looking at them as if he was judging them. Cabe swallowed, feeling his face flush with embarrassment that he shouldn't have had. He was afraid of people in general, especially ones that acted as though they were better than him in some way, as Peacekeepers always did. "Time's up."

"No! Cabe—" Mother looked wildly around. "Your father has a token for you."

"I—I do." Looking surprised, Father took off his own leather watch. It was one of the ones that had been designed and then had parts of it made by Father himself. "Here. Wear it well."

"I'll bring it back to you."

Father looked like he wanted to say something, but swallowed the words back. _One way or another,_ Cabe thought. _That's what he was going to say._ One way or another, Cabe's father would have his watch back at the end of the month.

Miller was the next person to visit Cabe. Miller was another fifteen-year-old that Cabe went to school with, and he was probably Cabe's only friend in the District. He was another socially awkward teenager with a hobby of hacking, something that Cabe was pretty sure that only he knew about. Then again, maybe being associated with Miller had hurt Cabe's case during the voting.

 _I can't think like that. Miller's been a good friend for a long time._

"Do you think that you can win?" Miller asked. To the point, as always.

Cabe shrugged. _Think logically._ "Probably not."

"Yeah. But you should still try."

"Okay. I will."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss _you._ "

"No matter what happens, I won't stop missing you."

"Even if I come back?" Cabe didn't want to hear his friend's answer.

"Even when you come back, you'll be a different person. You know how Nick gets." Nick Thompson, District 3's only Victor, was known for having psychotic breaks that took him to the Capitol for months at a time for rehabilitation. "I'm not saying that it's _going_ to happen to you. But it might. Well, it's not. Because—well."

 _Always so blunt._ Cabe wasn't sure that he wanted to hear this right now. But he needed a reality check sometimes, and Miller was always the one to give it to him. "Don't forget me, Miller."

Miller gave him a sad smile. "Never."

And then with a hug and a kiss on the cheek—the most awkward kiss of Cabe's life, and that was saying something, as he'd kissed Linda Gard at a school function once and it had been completely awful—Miller was gone.

* * *

"Well, it'll be nice to have you two on board," Zelleck said with each hand on one of Zara and Cabe's shoulders.

Zara snorted, already feeling familiar anger rising up in her. "Hardly. Don't you know? We're the dregs of the District. The really, really bad guys. That's why we were voted in."

Zelleck's grip tightened. "I see that you do not want this trip to be pleasant, Miss Kapoor. I assure you, I can make it very, very unpleasant for you."

"How? We're barely on the train for a night. And…" Cabe let himself filter Zara's voice out of his mind as he found a camera out of his peripheral vision and gave it an annoyed sideways glance.

Zara trailed off and regarded her District partner, whose eyes were almost as red as hers. What was up with him? Was he actually a member of the dregs of the District? He was rich, of course. That was more than enough reason for him to be sent in. But what other secrets was he hiding behind his pale skin and mop of dark hair?

 _I'll figure them out. Before he's the death of me. And I'll come back._ Zara looked down at the stone in her hand. _I just have to stay true to myself. I have to have faith._

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D6: D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **What a duo, don't you think? Thanks to inthepalepinkcoat and AlphaZero21 for 'em!**

 **Just so everyone knows, the SYOT is closed. Thanks to everyone who submitted! As usual, share your thoughts on them via review! We know that pandering for reviews isn't pleasant, but seriously, it would be great to get some.**

 **Also, we're through with half the Districts? Whaa-at?!** Until next update!


	8. Outcasted Outsiders

**District 12**

Leonis iPavarot had a look of anticipation on his face as he made his way to the small podium with the girl's envelope on it. Everyone knew that he despised the Tributes that were Reaped from District 12. From the speech he had given earlier, everyone knew that he expected to draw some better Tributes. Half the District was excited along with him. Maybe this year, they had a chance to win. The other half thought the opposite. Their Tributes would be disappointing, like always, because that was all that District 12 had to offer.

"And for our lovely lady, we have...Khol Thomas!"

Though he would be reluctant to admit it, it stung.

Even now, on the moment of his death, on the moment that the District had really shown him how much they hated him, Khol Thomas was still being referred to as a girl.

"Him," Khol silently muttered, before trudging up to the stage.

There was a single scream behind him, but Khol didn't look back. There were some mutters, too, but Khol had expected it. There were always mutters when it came to him.

To Leonis's credit, he didn't even blink an eye when Khol got onto the stage, just taking on a disappointed look. Khol looked out onto the crowd. He just wanted to find his mother.

 _What the_ —

Khol's blank expression wavered as he found his mother. Rye Thomas was on the ground, unmoving, surrounded by other people. She was dead! She was dead! _She can't be dead!_ It suddenly hit him. _The scream!_ But no—thank whatever gods were up there—for she sat up.

A tear traced its way down Khol's face as he imagined what would become of his mother. He was all that she had left. What would happen to her once he was gone? Logically, Khol knew that his mother could provide for herself. She was strong. But without the mental support they gave each other…

And why was Khol even considering his mother? He had to be thinking about himself! He was going to die! His District had laid down a death sentence on him—the Hunger Games.

Leonis was at the other small table. "And our boy will be Ezrael Ward!"

 _Oh, Capitol._

Normally standing with a clump of other children from the Community Home, Ezrael felt very alone. Only Demix stood by his side, the two of them being the lone 16-year-old males from the Community Home. Demix's expression hadn't changed. It never did. But Ezrael gasped slowly, as if them wind had been knocked out of him.

 _Demix. Milah. Idan. Scorlia._ What would happen to them when he was gone? Logically, Ezrael knew that they would move on. That was what you did when you were the lowest of the low. When people fell to starvation or cold or violence you _made_ yourself move on.

Ezrael felt a sob erupt from his throat, feeling as if he was being torn apart. _Capitol...not even the girl was crying._ But he was. He couldn't make himself stop.

"Ezrael."

It was Demix.

"Ezrael. You have to get up there." He was right, and he knew that, so why was there such difficulty in following him?

"Demix…" Ezrael said, almost begging. "Demix, don't…"

"Ezrael, you have to get up there." His tone was almost pleading, now. The melancholy of his words was becoming quite noticeable.

Demix gave him a small push, and Ezrael stumbled towards the stage. There wasn't any recognition, any regret, on the faces of anyone he passed. He found the face of Damien, a thirteen-year-old from the Home, as he made his way to the stage. Other faces swam before him, out of focus, indifferent.

The look of hope had completely dropped off of Leonis's face by the time Ezrael had gotten onto the stage. "Your Tributes, everyone! Yay!"

Even the perky, hopeful Leonis sounded sarcastic as he said it.

* * *

Khol was disarmed by the fact his heart leaped upon seeing the face of Isadora Keane. His face had probably noticeably lit up as well, which Khol was embarrassed by. He knew that there was little to no chance of Isadora thinking of him as he thought of her, and he didn't want to ruin her friendship. It would already make so much sense if Isadora didn't want to be around him, just like everyone else in the District. Khol didn't want to tear down what they had.

"Oh, Khol." Isadora didn't hesitate as she hugged him, squeezing him tightly. She was crying. "I can't believe this."

Khol was crying too, now. "Me neither," he said. "I'm...I'm…"

"You're leaving." Isadora looked at Khol intensely. "Khol, I'm so sorry."

"No. Please don't be sorry." Khol was crying too, crying because this was definitely the last time he and Isadora would ever talk, because this was his last chance to set everything straight and because he was too much of a damn _coward_ to do so. "Isadora...thank you. Thank you so much. You've made this...this _life,_ or whatever the fuck you want to call it...you've made it _bearable._ If it weren't for you...I don't know."

"Khol, no." Isadora hugged him tighter, and Khol released a new wave of tears. "Khol, don't ever say that. Of course I'm your friend. You're _worth it,_ Khol. Please fight. Please come back. You don't deserve to die."

"Isadora, I...I love you." As soon as Khol said it, it was like a weight had been lifted from him. It was the truth. There was no point in keeping it in. Khol only hoped that Isadora wouldn't hate him.

"I love you too, Khol," Isadora said, and Khol had to keep himself from feeling elation because he knew what was coming, because Isadora wasn't like him in that she kept her emotion under wraps, and she was bright and honest and _beautiful_ and—"You're the brother I never had, Khol. Come back. You'll come back, and they'll all see how amazing you are."

She tapped his wrist, where there was a bracelet she had made him years ago. Khol had gathered the string from leftover scraps in his mother's workshop, and Isadora had woven it together. Khol had suggested that she start working with his mother. She was talented. She deserved to be able to use her talent to escape the mines that waited for her as soon as she turned eighteen. Isadora had looked so hopeful on that day. It was the moment that Khol had realized that she wasn't just a friend to him.

"It's my token," Khol assured her. Isadora tried to smile at him, but her face was shaking.

"Khol, please. Come back. I need you to come back."

"Okay."

Khol knew that their time was up. He hugged Isadora as tightly as he could, and she did the same to him, before walking backwards out of the room. She kept her eyes on his face and that was when Khol knew that as much as Isadora wanted him to come back, she knew that he had no chance.

Rye Thomas, Khol's mother, was in the room next. She still looked physically ill, and Khol immediately told her to sit down. He didn't want her to pass out again. The two of them might have lived in the richer part of the District, and they may have been well-to-do and relatively secure, but they were all that the other had left. When Khol was forced to leave his mother, Rye would have no one left to depend on.

 _That's my fault, isn't it? It's the way_ I _am that makes people hate us._

"I'm sorry," Khol whispered. He knew that his mother's seamstress business had suffered when Khol had told everyone that he was no longer a girl, but a boy. He knew that she would no doubt suffer more from being the mother to the person that had been voted into the Games. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Rye's voice was barely more than a whisper, and Khol wondered if she would cry. "Just fight."

"I don't know if I can win."

"You survived the District, didn't you? My beautiful daughter. Son. It doesn't matter, Khol."

"Mother?"

"Khol, I know that I've made myself clear. I don't like what you've done with your life."

"I know." Khol fell as if he was falling into a pit with acid at the bottom. Why did his mother insist on dragging this _here?_ Khol was about to go to his death. He didn't need _this_ kind of unintended pain coming from his mother.

"But none of that matters anymore. You are my child, Khol Thomas. You are your father's child. And you fight. You win! You come back! You understand me?" Rye was standing up. They were almost exactly the same height, sharing many features, and anyone who saw them couldn't doubt that they were related. Not for the first time, Khol wondered how things would have changed if he...if he...if he was someone else. Would he and his mother look exactly the same? Would they be closer? Would their lives be happier?

 _But at least I'm not living a lie!_

"I'm sorry," Khol repeated. He didn't know what he was apologizing for. Being who he was? Ruining their lives with his identity? Not being able to come back? For leaving her alone?

"Oh, Khol."

And then their time was up too.

Khol opened and closed his mouth, desperately, angrily, as she was dragged out of the room. He needed to say something else to her. To reassure her. To confirm that he loved her. To ask for her love.

Yet all that came out was, "Goodbye, mother."

* * *

The door opened and the kids all flooded in, Hulya at the head. Ezrael nodded at her, surprised that she had even bothered to show up. Hulya was the matron at the Community Home, and while she tried her best to take care of them, there were simply too many kids for Hulya to pay much attention to the older ones like Ezrael. She wasn't abusive, just abrasive, but Ezrael couldn't help but feel grateful that she had bothered to let everyone come.

Idan, little ten-year-old Idan whose parents had abandoned him at four, and who had essentially decided that Ezrael was his new parent, threw himself at Ezrael with a sob. "Ez!"

"Idan...geez, Idan, it's going to be okay." Ezrael assumed the dry, slightly humorous tone that a select few people got from him. "We all knew that this was going to happen. And better me than—" Ezrael choked on the words before he could make them come out. Than Demix, his best friend, who was at least strong enough to make a good living in the mines and maybe support some of the other kids in the Home. Than Follis or Charity, who had only turned twelve a month ago and who didn't deserve to die before their lives had really even started. (Ezrael ignored the fact that he was only sixteen himself.) And what if Milah had gone in? Milah acted as a mother to the middle-aged kids, the thirteen and fourteen-year-olds that Hulya couldn't deal with. Milah was necessary. Or Scorlia.

 _Scorlia._ Ezrael shuddered at the thought of Scorlia going in. She had dropped out of school at fourteen and used her above-average height to sneak into mine shifts. She bought food on the black market and shared it with all of them. _More than that_...Ezrael swallowed. Scorlia meant a lot to him. They had been friends for as long as Ezrael could remember. He...he, well, _liked_ her. In a way that Demix made fun of him about.

"That's a fucked-up way of looking at things," Demix said, glaring at him. "There's no such thing as it being _better_ that someone's going into the Games. We need you here, Ezrael. And it's so unfair…"

"There are other people," Scorlia said. Her eyes were shiny with tears, but Ezrael knew that she was too prideful to cry in front of the kids. "There are so many bastards assholes that the District could have sent away. It shouldn't have been you. You know that, Ez."

"Yeah. Of course." Ezrael looked down at Idan, focusing on keeping himself from crying but hugging Idan tightly. "Idan, it's gonna be okay."

Idan couldn't even respond, he was crying so hard. Milah took him from Ezrael, giving Ezrael a small, forced smile. Demix cracked his fingers as Scorlia began talking. "Look, Ezrael. Maybe you're not as strong as a Career Tribute. But we know how to survive. You know how to survive. You just have to outlast everyone else."

 _Outlast._ It wasn't much to go on, but it was something, at least. Ezrael was used to letting other people make the decisions, anyway. As long as he could have any last bits of advice from his fellow Home members, he'd follow it.

"Remember what we talked about," Milah said.

Ezrael bit his lip. When the Quell had been announced, the older children at the Home had discussed a plan just in case one of them was chosen. It involved learning how to survive rather than fight the other Tributes. Ezrael was supposed to learn about survival during training, and make an ally from Districts 9, 10, or 11 if he could. But Ezrael wasn't sure if he could do it. He was comfortable when he was with Scorlia, Demix, and Milah. But around other people? He just didn't know how to interact.

"Just follow the plan," Scorlia said, and Ezrael was sure that the desperation in her voice wasn't his imagination. Not for the first time, Ezrael imagined what would happen if he just kissed her right now— _Snap out of it! I've got other things to worry about!_ Scorlia was still talking, after all. "Remember what we talked about. Come home."

"Imagine if you win," Milah put in. "It would be life-changing."

"For all of us," Demix said. Ezrael's eyes flashed to Hulya, who was watching them. Ezrael imagined coming home, in glory, with all of the money that he could want. Selfishly, he imagined leaving everything behind: his friends. The Home. His entire identity. Wouldn't that be better?

 _No._ Ezrael shook those thoughts off. Maybe it was a self-destructive view, but Ezrael knew that without his friends— _family_ —from the Home, he would be nothing.

He shivered as he remembered that where he was going, they could not follow.

Their time was close to up. Hulya hugged him and gave him a kiss on the head. "You're one of the smartest, Ezrael," she told him. "The kindest. The best of our bunch. I know that your parents would be proud of you. I know that I don't say it much, but I'm proud of you." The other children all gave Ezrael a hug, a kiss, a punch— to his slight amusement, and filed out after Hulya, leaving Demix, Milah, Scorlia, and Idan.

Ezrael gave Idan one last hug, kissing the boy that was like his younger brother on the forehead. "Be strong, Idan. Okay? I...I l-love you." It was difficult to get the words out, but Ezrael was _not_ about to die without letting Idan know it.

Idan just nodded. "Love you. Fight hard." And then Hulya dragged him out of the room.

"Take care of him," Ezrael said softly, looking at Milah. "Please."

"Of course." Milah's face was trembling. " _Fuck,_ Ez. I'm...I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"We'll pool our wages," Milah promised. "We'll sponsor you. We'll get you back." She broke into tears altogether. The other three of them respectfully looked away. Ezrael had never felt so lost.

Demix took his hand. "Come back, okay?" His voice was small, weak. Ezrael had the distinct sense of something crumbling inside of him.

He was going to die, wasn't he? Was it too much that he wanted his memories of his friends to be of strong people, of the people that they were? He didn't want these weak figures haunting his memories.

Milah took Demix's hand. They each hugged Ezrael, before leaving Ezrael and Scorlia alone.

Scorlia sat down next to him. "Ez…"

"Scor."

"I don't know what to say."

"So don't say anything." It was easier that way. They both knew that.

Scorlia tugged at the sleeve of her grey shirt, and ripped off a strip of it. The sound itself was sharp, and cut through the numb haze that Ezrael was in. Suddenly, he felt more awake. More aware. Scorlia handed him the piece of fabric. "Take it. It's your token, okay?"

As she gave it to him, their hands touched, and Ezrael wondered if Scorlia felt the same way towards him as he did to her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to tell her everything that he hadn't been able to.

But the moment was too fleeting. The Peacekeepers entered the room the next instant. "It's time to go, Mr. Ward."

What happened next surprised him. As he watched Scorlia turn away, his mind filling with thoughts that this could possibly be the last time he would see her, she ran to his side, throwing her arms around him. She looked at him, and as her eyes flittered to his lips, Ezrael could feel the rapid beating of his heart.

Yet something in her eyes shifted, and Scorlia instead chose to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

"Come home, Ez," she whispered in his ear.

And then she was walking out the door, the memory of the touch of her lips sending a warmth across his whole body.

* * *

Leonis hurried Ezrael and Khol onto the train with a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'm glad that you guys aren't crying. That would suck. The pair from last year...ugh."

Ezrael didn't even blink an eye, despite the fact that Partridge Ward from last year had been one of his friends. Khol didn't blink an eye, even though Morris Torrill, the other half of the pair had been seated next to him in every one of their classes for three years.

Neither of them showed much emotion as the train began moving, ferrying them farther and farther away from the District that, for better or worse, had been their home.

* * *

 **Tributes:  
** **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **To anyone who was considering reviewing: use the correct pronouns, please. In life, just make sure that you're using the right pronouns and respecting people's identities. Thank you.**

 **Moving on...how was the chapter? These chapters are getting pretty long, but what did you think? Thoughts on these guys? Predictions? Hashtag reviews are life. Wink wink.**

 **Thanks to elvie_duck and Nordic Nonsense for these Tributes. What did you guys think?**

 **Until next time!**


	9. Bottom of the Food Chain

**District 5**

Wisteria Caesar never expected to resent her job. The extravagant outfits, the cameras and the lights, the chance to meet a pair of kids and teach them of the ways of the Capitol before the Games. The Hunger Games were just absolutely exciting, right? The job seemed pleasant, almost dreamlike. At least, in theory.

Just after her first year, she learned the hard way just how wrong her belief was. She watched in horror as the girl's blood spilled in the Bloodbath, her partner following shortly after. Their previously light-filled eyes were void in a matter of seconds. She had wanted to throw up. _She_ had been the ones to draw their names. To send these children to their deaths. Did that mean that she was one of their murderers? It was hard to believe her childhood dream had quickly turned into a nightmare. She wasn't sure why she still stayed, honestly. Good pay? The desire to help unfortunate kids undeserving of the fate they were subjected come home?

Wisteria stared out into the crowds of the District 5 peoples, and shifted her expression to that of a happy, excited one. "How _exciting_ these Games are ought to be! Now, let us see who will be the lucky ones, shall we?"

Robin Wood wouldn't call herself an expert on reading people, but being the quiet one around others allowed her to practice her observation skills. Disgusted expressions, weirded-out looks meant _I don't like you. You're weird._ And now the slight pain in Wisteria's words and her strained gestures told her there was something more behind the seemingly sweet smile and the excited demeanor. With the attention she had been giving in observing the escort, she almost didn't hear the words that would change her life in District 5 as she knew it.

"—is one Robin Wood! Ms. Wood, could you join me up here, please?"

 _Robin...Wood. Robin Wood. That's...that's me? But...but..._

Her fellow fourteen-year-olds parted before her, leaving an open path leading up to the stage. Robin felt her heartbeat rise, and rapidly began panting. Beads of sweat started to dot her nose. _No! It can't… Why?!_ Blind panic overtook her. _Me? Why? I don't_ — _I don't understand!_

And then the tears began to spill. She didn't even realize she was struggling to hold them in, and the salty taste met her tongue.

The forty-seven second journey to the stage felt more like an hour. She did not miss the look Wisteria Caesar shot her as she helped her up the stage. _I'm sorry._

Robin ignored her, desperately searching through the crowd, trying to find her sister and parents. More than that, she just wanted a friendly face. A sorry one.

Of course, there weren't any. Who would feel sorry that she was leaving?

"And now, let us see who will be joining our dear Robin to the Capitol!" were Wisteria's high-spirited words that were nothing but awkward in the tense atmosphere.

The harsh sound of the card stock envelope ripping filled the air, and the words that followed it shook one particular—

" _Landon Mercer!"_

It was like an electrical shock had gone through Landon as he heard his name called. Anger coursed through the seventeen-year-old's blood vessels. He began shooting indignant looks at the faces that surrounded him as he stalked up the stage. To his slight surprise, the anger morphed into bitter understanding. He did some pretty unscrupulous things in the past. It was only a matter of time before his spite and dirty actions caught up to him.

 _I would've done the same to someone who'd pull those kind of moves against me,_ he realized.

He roughly reached the stage, keeping a neutral expression that almost looked belligerent. His fiery eyes caught the faces of the senior workers who no doubt have had a hand in the situation he was in at that moment.

"Robin Wood and Landon Mercer, your Tributes! Shake hands, please."

Robin's small hand was engulfed by Landon's rough grip. An understanding passed between them.

 _Best of luck to you for the horrors we are sure to face._

* * *

The door to Robin's goodbye room opened with a bang, and Robin was practically tackled immediately afterwards. Momentarily surprised, Robin regained her bearings and began hugging her older sister Alice for all she was worth. Alice hugged her back, and before long, the two girls were crying into each other's shoulders.

Robin was the first one to pull back. "I don't want to go," she said plaintively, reminding herself of a small child.

"I don't want you to go," Alice responded. Alice was twenty years old, an adult. She still lived with Robin and their parents, but that wasn't very unique to the District, especially since Alice wasn't married yet. Robin didn't know what she'd do if Alice ever moved out. Alice had practically raised her. Robin depended on her, and liked to believe that Alice depended on _her_ as well. And now Robin was going to die.

Robin realized that her parents were standing behind them. They were being quiet, as usual. Robin couldn't remember the last time that they had really talked. After all, who had time for that? Robin's parents worked minimum wage jobs in the factories that District 5 was famous for. They were distant. Cold. Uncaring.

Robin shivered. _No. That's not true. They care about me...right?_

Looking at their impassive faces, it was all too easy to believe that they didn't care one way or another.

Alice seemed to notice it too. "Well?" she said softly, addressing them. "Don't you have anything to say?"

Robin's mother was silent. But Robin's mother was always silent. Sometimes, Robin would be forced to wonder if her mother was actually an Avox or something like that, but then her mother would finally speak about something. Robin's father looked apathetic, as always, but at least his voice had emotion as he spoke. "Robin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Robin wondered if he was wondering whether he should have done something more. But—well, either sadly or happily, Robin couldn't pin the blame for what had happened on him. So they were lower class. Practically everyone was in District 5. It wasn't her parents' fault that Robin was the least-liked person at school, at work...everywhere. It wasn't her fault either that she was too serious and too awkward and not able to do enough work to satisfy everyone that she knew.

Yet she could only blame that on herself.

Alice hadn't let go of Robin, and was glaring slightly at their father. "Is that it?" she practically spat.

"Alice, don't," Robin mumbled. "It's not worth it." She didn't want her sister to be hurt in the long run because of her.

"It's worth it, Robin," Alice insisted. " _You're_ worth it."

Robin's mother put a hand forward.

"What is this?" Robin asked, reaching out and taking it.

It was a feather. A red one. Robin had never seen anything like it before. But Alice's eyes were teary. "It's a robin feather," she told Robin.

Suddenly, for the second time that day, Robin's tears coursed down in torrents. Her hands struggled to wipe them from her slate-colored eyes.

"It was said that the robin marks the return of the sun. A symbol for spring," her mother said in barely more than a whisper. "Let this remind you of something, Robin."

"I don't… understand?" was Robin's reply.

Her father then stepped forward, then, in a gentle voice, said, "The sun will always come, Robin. No matter how grey the skies are. No matter what happens, you've got to stay positive, alright?"

Robin was quiet for a moment, then slowly nodded.

Her sister spoke up after, through sniffles. "Come back, alright? You _have_ to."

But Robin had a sick feeling that she would be making an empty promise.

* * *

Devon Reid, Landon's best—only—friend, walked in. Landon briefly wondered where his family was, before realizing that his little sister Kira must have been having a breakdown and was unable to see him at the moment. Anyway, he was glad to see Devon. He and Devon worked at the same power plant. Devon was one of the only— _the_ only—person that Landon trusted outside of his family. In the world, really.

"Landon, you were an idiot," Devon told him.

"I know," Landon said. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"No point in being sorry now. Do you have a plan?"

Landon opened and closed his mouth. He didn't know what to say. Should he just keep lying? After all, it was just the easiest thing to do. But could he really lie to Devon? He opted to just shrug.

"Stay alive," Devon told him.

Landon snorted bitterly. "All there is to it."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment or two, before Devon's expression broke. "Landon, I'm going to miss you. I don't think I've ever said this, but...you're a good friend."

Landon nodded. "I'll miss you too. I'm sorry I didn't listen." Landon felt that he shouldn't be going into the Games. There were other people, all much worse than he was. But he at least slightly understood why he was going in. Angrily, he looked back on his actions. If only he hadn't spread those rumors. If only he had just waited for good things to come to him.

No. That wasn't who he was. He could never have wasted his life away, unsure about whether fortune would fall in his direction or not. At least he had been proactive.

Devon eventually left, leaving Landon alone. In the silence, Landon inwardly let out a string of curses, fidgeting with the woven leather bracelet on his right wrist. A feeling of grief washed over him, as the memory of the trinket's giver resurfaced. _Dad._ Though he was usually perfectly fine with being left to his thoughts, he was starting to feel restless in the empty room, more than wishing for the company of his family, his ten-year-old sister Kira. He couldn't stand to think of his father any longer. He was gone, never to return.

To his relief, the door opened and his eyes landed on the running form of his sister. Before he knew it, her arms had wrapped around his shoulders. "Lan! Lan!" she said, sobbing. "Lan, don't go!"

"Capitol, Kira. You'd think I wasn't coming back."

Landon met Myra Mercer's eyes, looking past Kira's head. Myra Mercer, Landon's mother, was the solid rock of the Mercer family. When Gavin Mercer, Landon's father, had died, Landon had been forced to step up to be the main breadwinner of the family. Still, without the subsidies that came from Myra's work in the factories and the emotional support that she mustered up for her children, Landon wasn't sure that he would have made it. As he looked into his mother's eyes, he wondered if she could see the lie in them. He had no idea whether he could win or not. Chances were, he'd never come back.

Myra's eyes didn't hold much hope in them, but they held love. They held worry. They held blind fear and panic. But the fact that Myra had any hope at all made Landon feel better, just a little bit.

Kira tugged on Landon's bracelet softly. "Will you see Daddy again?"

Landon felt like he was choking. "Someday."

"Lan, I don't want you to see Daddy again." Kira looked at him with huge, anxious hazel eyes that matched his own. "Is that...am I s-selfish?"

"No." Landon hugged her tight, hoping worthlessly that she would keep her innocence and faith in the world, though he knew that there was no way innocence could truly exist for long in this harsh place. "You're not selfish, Kira. Promise me that you'll try and be happy. Promise."

"Lan?"

He had scared her again. Landon knew that he had implicitly told her she wouldn't be coming back. Myra hugged the two of them, and Landon let a few tears drop into his mother's shoulder. He pulled back, knowing he had to start being strong now. "Kira, you're going to have a great life. I promise. I'll always be there for you, okay?"

Landon never showed that much emotion. The only times that he let his blank facade crack were when he was with his family and Devon. But now...he felt weak.

"I love you, Lan," Kira told him.

"Kira, I need you to wait outside, honey," Myra told her daughter.

Kira looked at them, confused. "Mommy?"

"I love you, Kira," Landon said. "Never forget that."

Kira slowly left the room. "I love you, Lan."

As soon as she was gone, Myra turned to Landon, sudden anger on her face. "I warned you."

"I know."

"I warned you, Landon! I told you not to spread rumors! I told you not to be so ambitious! And this is what happened when you didn't listen to me!" Myra's face was getting red. "You know what your father would say if he was here? He'd be so disappointed! We didn't raise you to be a liar!"

"Don't talk about Dad," Landon hissed, his own anger boiling inside of him at his mother's ( _unfair, unwarranted)_ words. "He'd have wanted us to be safe. Provided for. And I'm just doing that. If you—"

Landon cut himself off, knowing he had gone too far. His mother looked angry. Devastated. There was a look on her face like she was already in mourning. "Don't you dare speak about your father that way, Landon," Myra said. "He loved us. He loved _you._ And he would never have wanted you to get ahead the way you did. You know what he would have wanted? He would have wanted you to _live._ Is this the right way to honor him?"

"I didn't spread the rumors," Landon said flatly. It was one of the sweetest lies that he had ever told.

And he knew instantly that it was worth it. His mother looked relieved, and Landon knew that she had not really believed it, or at least was reluctant to believe it was true. She wanted to believe that he was innocent. Honest. _She wants to believe that I'm still the little boy she raised._

Landon could no longer be that person.

"I love you," he told his mother. "Tell Kira how much I love her. When she's older...tell her I'm sorry."

"I love you, Landon. Your father loves you. Don't ever forget that."

* * *

Despite the heaviness of the situation Robin and Landon were in, a feeling of lightness had spread throughout their chests, to both their surprise.

 _Kira. Mom and Dad,_ Landon thought. They gave him something that was worth fighting for. Even Dad.

Robin, too, was able to keep her eyes off of the ground. The words of Alice and her parents had struck her, almost enough to lift the heavy weight of hopelessness she was feeling.

The pair had come across each other in the hall that led to the departing train. Upon hearing the _click-clack_ of heels, their eyes traveled, landing upon the tired-looking figure of Wisteria Caesar.

"Come along, now. We must get going immediately." Yet the tone of her voice suggested she wanted to do anything but.

After all, it was never a nice feeling escorting children to their graves.

Wisteria turned a lavender-colored heel around, Robin and Landon in her wake.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **Thank you, Kintsugade and** **I believe in nargles too** **for these Tributes. We hope we portrayed them well!**

 **So… How was the chapter? What do you think of these guys? Who did you prefer? Stuff about them you liked/disliked? Reviews are truly cookies for a writer's soul, lol. Even the shortest nice comment can truly make one smile. :)** **Also, two-thirds into Reapings, guys. Holy poop.**

 **Writer's news: the election is over in the USA, and as one of us lives there, things might be a little complicated. We'll still get the updates out, don't worry, but things might be a bit rocky for a few weeks. (*Sigh*)**

 **See you next update!**


	10. Inferno

**District 10**

Alodia Keene sounded as if she could have come from District 10 as well, and with her caramel skin and simple, bob-cut black hair, she looked like it as well. She was known for being the most normal-looking of all the District escorts, and she was at least slightly kind as well. It was rumored around District 10 as well as CapitolTV that the Games service only kept her around because she was the oldest living Escort, having been around for the 1st Hunger Games, and because she was too much of a famous face to get rid of. Still, her hands were steady and her face like rock as she ripped open the envelope.

"Fiori Hart." Her voice was a whisper. Alodia leaned forward and said it again, into the microphone. "Fiori Hart."

Fiori Hart stiffened the second time that her name was called, a shock going through her as if she had stuck her finger into the socket in the kitchen back when it still worked. _Fiori Hart. Fiori Hart._ Her name echoed in her ears. _Shit._

She closed her eyes for the briefest second, trying to force all of the panic and fear out of her body, and took solid, strong steps up the platform, swallowing down her tears. She caught a glimpse of her own face on one of the huge broadcasting screens. She didn't look weak, at least. Her black hair, pulled back from her olive skin in a ponytail, made her face look sharper than it normally did. Her hazel eyes looked hard.

 _Good._ Fiori knew how bad it was to look weak when you were Reaped. Or...well, sent into the Games by your own District. But that sounded very, very bad. Fiori forced that thought down and gave a small nod to Alodia. She noted a wild look in Alodia's eyes. Panic, perhaps, or anger. Maybe even happiness. Fiori bit her lip, forcing herself to stop staring. She had bigger fish to fry. _Collaborators. Fascists. Pigs. I was helping_ _you!_

The second envelope was ripped open. "Talon Prime."

Talon Prime was standing in the eighteen-year-olds section, as far from the stage as possible. He jerked back at the sound of his name, slamming into the red velvet ropes separating the sections, and knocking them over. He pushed over the boy standing behind him, and delved deeper into the crowd, hoping that they'd shield him from the Peacekeepers. Push. Shove. He got into a sort of rhythm with it, and people in the seventeen-year-olds section instinctively jerked back at the sight of him.

"Talon Prime."

Alodia had said his name again. There were Peacekeepers watching, now, and Talon began sprinting. So maybe he had cover with all of the people surrounding him. But he couldn't get anywhere in this crowd. He was fast. He could run away! He made a break for the open space between the boys' and girls' section of the Square, sprinting quickly away.

But then he felt a presence come up behind him. Instinctively, he punched backwards, hitting something armored. His fist stung, but after years of abuse, he barely felt it. He continued forward—

And then suddenly, he was on the ground. He could feel blood trickling out of his nose, and his head was spinning. The sun beat down from overhead, making everything hazy and dreamlike. Out of the corner of his eye, Talon thought that he could see Freya, but did that matter?

Why was he even mulling over the thought? _Of course not!_ Talon had to get away! He had to escape! He could _not_ go into the Games.

But he was surrounded, surrounded by Peacekeepers, and he couldn't see an escape anywhere. He stood up unsteadily, his fists up.

"Come on, kid." A Peacekeeper was holding a stun gun. _They're not allowed to hurt Tributes._ Talon briefly wondered what would happen to the Peacekeeper who tackled him, hoping that it was painful. _They can't hurt me anymore._

The District was watching him silently. He glared at them. "So you're sending me in, you fucking cowards?!"

A Peacekeeper came up on either side of him, dragging him forward.

"Just watch!" Talon hollered to the crowd. "Just watch! I'm'a kill 'em all! I'm gonna come back, fuckers! And when I do?!" He grinned savagely. "Just you wait!"

He shook the Peacekeepers off as he mounted the steps, and then made a wild grab for Alodia Keene. _Kill her. Kill the girl. Kill them all. I need to get away from here!_

Alodia didn't even scream, calmly pulling back and letting the Peacekeepers grab him. Talon screamed, but his efforts were futile. No matter how much he shoved and kicked, the Peacekeepers wouldn't let him go. The cameras were rolling, eagerly focusing on Talon. He hissed at them. _You think this is funny? You laughing at me? We'll see who's laughing when this is over!_

He spat at Fiori's feet even as she stretched out her hand for him to shake, giving her a manic glare.

She fiercely glared back.

* * *

"I can't believe it," Fiori seethed. She was pacing the goodbye room, every footfall forceful and angry. She didn't know what to say. Was there any correct response to an event like this? She looked down at Nikki. Fiori didn't want to leave her little sister with this view of her. She didn't want Nikki to have a bad view of rebels—of the District—in general, either. After all, if Nikki was left with the belief that District 10 sent its rebels into the Games, then she would never have the courage to rebel. Suddenly, Fiori felt like she was holding a huge weight on her back. She had never felt so alone.

Her mother, Erika Hart, her best friend Shayna, and Nikki were all watching her. The room that they were in was huge. It felt too empty. Fiori wished that the chickens were there, too. The Harts worked a chicken farm, and Fiori spent a lot of her time with the chickens. They were her friends. In some ways, Fiori aspired to be them. They were gritty animals, tough and mean, but not scared of showing some care towards the ones that they loved. _Chickens are just better than people, I guess._

Shayna opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it abruptly. Fiori raised her eyebrows at her, prompting her to speak. Shayna sighed. "Ri, you know that I love you. But...well…"

"I told you so?" Fiori guessed, working to stop herself from glaring at her friend.

"No! Not that. That sounds awful. But I guess…"

"'You couldn't have stopped for just a few months?'" Fiori suggested, sighing. She was all too good at finishing Shayna's sentences. Fiori had a talent for reading the people that she was close to like an open book. Though that wasn't the best comparison, considering Fiori's trouble reading... _not important!_ Fiori's trouble reading had never stopped her before. She was one of the best students in school. It was just like her mother always told her: the only thing holding her back was herself.

Fiori looked to her mother. Erika was staring at her with a strange expression on her face. Fiori guessed that she was afraid. Maybe a bit confused. Fiori bit her lip, not sure of what to say. She was never the best at handling situations like this. Luckily, Mrs. Hart took the initiative. She pulled the blue scrunchie that was always in her long, dark hair out, and handed it to Fiori. "Take this. As a token. Remember that we love you."

"Oh, Mom." Tears threatened to come out of Fiori's eyes, but she controlled herself. "I love you, Mom."

Erika wasn't a person of very many words, but Fiori didn't need words. The emotion was evident in her face. Fiori closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get a hold of herself. _I need to be strong._ "Mom, I love you. Things...they'll work out." That was what Erika had always told her daughters. "Things'll be okay, I mean. You and Nikki can get by. Even without—" Fiori cut herself off. Nikki didn't need to know that her big sister was a thief. "Shayna, don't let Candy Schmidt get to first position. You're smart enough to stay first in our year. I'll miss you. Stay strong." Shayna nodded at her. There was respect in her face. Love. Fear, too. "And Nikki...I love you so much, Nikki. Don't worry."

"How can I not worry?" Nikki's voice was hysterical. "You're going into the Games, Fiori!"

"So?"

"So, remember last year? The year before that? People _die!_ They always die!" Nikki was practically in tears, and Fiori had to admit that she was right. District 10 only had one Victor, Arron Garza. Their two Tributes from last year...and the year before that...and the year before that...had gone down in the Bloodbath. Camilla Martins from the 21st Games had come in seventh place after being tortured to death by the Careers.

"So?" Fiori tuned out the rest of the room, bending down to Nikki's level. "I might die. Okay. But what matters is that I won't give in. I won't play their game. There're gonna be more like me, Nikki. They'll fight the fight. They'll win this one. This can't go on for longer. And I promise, someday things are gonna be better."

"But you won't be here! Fiori, promise! I don't care if you save your soul or if you're a good person. I just want you back." Nikki buried her face in her knees, sobbing.

Shayna put a hand on Fiori's shoulder, making a small gesture towards the camera in the corner. Fiori shrugged. The Capitol couldn't do any more to her now. She already had a death sentence. Fiori stared at her mother again. Erika had grown up in the slums of 10. She had been knocked up at 17 by an asshole who had left immediately after. And yet, Erika had somehow worked her way up to the owner of a small chicken farm. She had raised Fiori and adopted Nikki off the streets. She had stayed hopeful. Fiori tried to catch a spark of hope from her mother.

She was already in the jaws of the Capitol. There was nothing more that they could do to her now.

* * *

Families in District 10 grew big. It was a fact of life. After all, children were tessera machines when they were of Reaping age, good workers at all points in their lives, and were really just insurance policies for their parents. So child after child just kept coming.

Talon had grown up in one of these families. Jesse, at sixteen, was barely two years younger than Talon. Talon knew a lot of his peers were friends with siblings who were within three years of their age, but Talon could never have been friends with Jesse, little Jesse who looked just like their mother Trisha and who had never had to be afraid of their father, Galon. After all, it was Talon who Galon focused most of his anger on after the accident.

Then there was Emily, fourteen years old. Talon had never cared for her, either. She was too bright, too happy for their life. She cried at every death in the Games. Talon wondered if she'd cry for him. Then there was Colby, probably Talon's favorite, who was barely Reaping age and who was terrified of Talon. But he stayed out of Talon's way. Talon hadn't talked with him in almost three years. The youngest was nine-year-old Freya, who Talon could barely remember anything about. He remembered that she was always Mother's favorite.

Four siblings, a mother (a dead father), and an uncle. And none of them came to visit.

And because Talon didn't know what else he could do, he smiled. He smiled because their refusal to visit was proof that they were afraid of him. That they hated him. And they were hateful because he was so much stronger than he was. And he was strong because he was a survivor.

He looked out of the window at the burning District outside and smiled. He had survived years of his father's abuse and his family's hatred and of the District's yearning for his death. Over and over, he had survived, and he had grown stronger.

Talon was coming back.

* * *

Alodia Keene watched her two Tributes. The tall boy who had tried to hurt her. The angry girl with the long hair. She wondered what their crimes had been. Rebellion? Murder? Rape? Thievery? You didn't have to be a genius to notice the anger in both of their eyes.

Alodia turned away from her 25th set of Tributes, knowing that it didn't matter.

Anyway, she had seen it all before.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)  
** **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)  
** **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)  
** **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)  
** **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)  
** **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)  
** **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks to Golden Moon Huntress and maiakenn for these two. We hope that we wrote them well. Hope that everyone's having a good week. See you next update! If you want, be sure to leave your thoughts on these guys and the chapter via review!**


	11. A Family Matter

**District 8**

Other Districts had their town square at the edge of the Districts, in pretty areas with slightly more foliage and slightly less smog. District 8 didn't have the time—or the room—for that. The Town Square was shoved into the very center of the District, exhaust from factories and the smell of garbage and human refuse very prominent.

Marquin Smallcobble was disgusted with it. He had been stuck in District 8 for five years now, his Tributes dying within in the first few days and not putting on enough of a show for his promotion. It was bad enough, too, that he had to guide two sniveling, snotty District rats through Remake and the pre-Games every year. But actually _coming_ to District 8—it was almost more than he could bear.

He tried to get it over with quickly this year. "Our girl is Jeanna Rasch."

Jeanna Rasch had closed her eyes long before the Reaping had even started. As soon as she and Heather had found a relatively unpopulated corner of the Reaping pen, they had stopped there to wait. Heather had tried to talk once or twice. Jeanna had just shut her eyes. _Stupid,_ she thought to herself. _I can't even keep up a conversation anymore._

As she heard her name, tears began prickling at her eyes. She opened her eyes, seeing people all around them staring at her. Whispers were starting to mount from all around the square. Angry whispers. Happy ones, too. Jeanna went red, in shame, in anger, in fear. It hurt, knowing that the District was happy that she was going off to die.

Jeanna looked at Heather. As twins, they looked similar and often mirrored each other perfectly. Jeanna saw tears running down Heather's cheeks, and noted that Heather was starting to curl in on herself, making herself small. Jeanna wondered if she was doing the same thing. She looked deep into Heather's eyes for a moment. _This is your fault,_ she found herself thinking.

Then Jeanna shook her head. _No._ She couldn't blame Heather for this. Jeanna had chosen to take the blame. Heather didn't deserve the District's hate. Heather didn't deserve Jeanna's bitterness, either. Jeanna sucked in a deep breath and went up to the stage.

Marquin didn't even acknowledge her. "Midas Redglove."

 _How quickly the world can fall apart._

Midas Redglove took a deep breath. He was almost surprised that the District wasn't outright cheering at the fact that he had been picked. Or if not for him, then at the fact that Gregori Redglove was finally going to lose a child just like they did every year. In the factories. In starvation and sickness. In the Games.

At least he wasn't the Rasch girl. As Midas straightened his back and made his way to the stage, he congratulated himself on the fact that he was stronger than her. She was stooped over slightly, tears already slipping down her face. He looked better than her in comparison. He would just have to make sure that he wasn't associated with her too much.

He threw Marquin a bright smile, noting the way that Marquin's eyes widened slightly, the way that the Escort was taking easier breaths now. And why wouldn't he? Midas was tall, handsome. He looked strong and confident. He looked every bit a Victor, in fact.

Midas hid his disgust as he shook hands with the dirty slum rat. _I_ look _like a Victor. The rest will have to follow._

* * *

Heather entered the room not two minutes after Jeanna had been thrown in, hugging her. The twins hugged each other tightly, as if they could somehow stay together despite the fact that Jeanna was going to go to the Capitol, probably ( _definitely)_ to her death. Jeanna closed her eyes, trying to will the rest of her family to enter the room, and hoped that the Peacekeepers outside would allow her as much time as possible with her family. She doubted it, as they no doubt hated her as much as the rest of the District, but she could at least hope.

Moira burst into the room. "Jee!" She threw herself into the hug.

"Moira," Heather said. Jeanna shot her a thankful glance, glad that Heather could speak for her when she couldn't. "Where's Dad? And Pais? And Chan?"

"Right here." Paisley Rasch, their sixteen-year-old sister, walked into the room. Paisley's eyes were always red due to the dust from the factory that she worked 16-hour shifts in, but now they were red like she had been crying. "I saw Dad and Chan near the back. They're coming. Oh, Jeanna."

Jeanna tried to force a smile on her face and found that she couldn't. _Stupid,_ she thought to herself. _I'm being selfish._ "It's gonna…" before she could finish her sentence, she burst into tears. Heather started crying the next moment. And the Paisley was crying again, and Moira just looked uncomfortable.

"Dad. Good. You're here," Jeanna heard Moira say. She raised her head, and found her father, Argyle Rasch, standing at the door. Argyle was never the tallest person or the strongest, but to Jeanna, he had always looked like one of the Victors from 2.

"Dad!" Jeanna threw herself into her father's arms. Argyle hugged her tightly.

"Oh, Jeanna."

Jeanna became aware of the fact that Chantille, who was only nine, was sobbing as well.

For a while, the Rasches just sat in the room, each of them sobbing. Even Moira shed a few tears. But slowly, they were able to regain control of themselves.

"This is all my fault," said Heather.

Jeanna took her twin's hand and squeezed it, shaking her head.

"Well, it is!"

"How can it be?" Paisley said. "You didn't...well."

 _What, Heather didn't do it? How do you know that?_ Jeanna shook her head slowly, trying to clear her mind, knowing that she had to keep playing the game, if only for a little while. If only until she died.

"I'm sorry, Jeanna. I'm so, so sorry." Heather was giving out heaving sobs now.

"Don't be," Jeanna said, trying to muster up the little courage that she had. "It's _not_ your fault." She made intense eye contact with Heather, trying to remind Heather of the importance of keeping the facade up. If Heather let something slip now, then her life would be ruined. Already, Moira was looking at them strangely, but Moira, even at twelve, had always been the smartest person that Jeanna had ever known, and Jeanna was surprised that Moira figured it out already. "It wasn't your fault," she repeated again.

"Everyone out there, though." Paisley's voice was bitter. "They're the ones that decided to do this."

"But since Jee—"

"Chantille, don't," Paisley interrupted. "It's the Capitol, you know? They did this just to tell everyone why you can't mess up."

"Paisley, stop," Argyle warned his daughter. "They have...you know. And there's...you know."

"Sorry, Dad."

The worry lines on Argyle's face became very defined as he looked around the room. "Oh, my girls."

That was what sent Jeanna into a crying fit once more. The Rasch family joke was that they were all girls. Argyle pretended to complain about the number of daughters that he had. Paisley often pretended she wished she had a brother. But now, the Rasch family would be complete for the last time.

 _That's not true._

Mrs. Rasch had died while giving birth to Chantille. Jeanna had been five years old. She barely remembered her mother. Thus, it was easy to consider the family complete without her. Jeanna knew that it was a horrible way of looking at things. Paisley and Mr. Rasch both cried in the nights, over the lost member of their family. But Jeanna couldn't muster up any memories of her mother other than the tangy smell of the factories and the vague feeling of her mother's hair on her face.

 _Does that make me a bad person?_

Argyle took Jeanna's face in his hands. His hands were warm and dry and calloused. Just like all of them, except for Moira and Chantille, the genius and the baby, the only two members of the Rasch family that were still in school. "Jeanna, I love you. So much."

"I love you, Dad." Jeanna's tears were on his hands now.

She knew that this was a goodbye.

"I love you all. So much. Please...don't be too sad. When everything happens. And don't let...well."

"I know what happens in the Games," Chantille said quietly, still crying.

"I love you, Jee," Paisley sobbed.

"I love you, Jee," said Moira.

"I love you." Heather squeezed Jeanna's hand.

As they were practically dragged out of the room by the Peacekeepers, Jeanna caught a _look_ from Moira. One that said that Moira had finally figured out what had really happened. Jeanna gave a rueful smile as soon as the door had been shut. She closed her eyes, finally letting herself almost-sorta-kinda believe that whatever had happened at the factory hadn't been her fault.

Then Jeanna opened her eyes again. _My fault, my fault, my fault,_ she reminded herself. That was the lie she had told. That was the lie that had sent her into the Games. That was the lie that she just had to maintain until the gong went off and she was safely dead, when no one would ever be able to accuse Heather ever again.

* * *

"I won't be able to stay long," Gregori Redglove told his son.

Midas nodded. "Of course." He knew better than to hold it against his father. His father was famous around Panem, even in the Capitol. He had meetings to get to, people to flatter. More things to do than tell his estranged son goodbye.

Despite that, however, Midas felt bitterness eating away at him. He wouldn't have been going into the Games if it weren't for his father. Sure, maybe some of it was that Midas came off as cold and distant to District 8. Still, that was because of his upbringing. And really, the general dislike of his father was probably what led to all the votes being cast for him.

 _I can't feel like that,_ he reminded himself. His father had made it clear throughout Midas's life that Midas rightfully had to earn his love. Midas hadn't done very much so far to do that. Midas let out a small sigh. He tried to think of something to say, something to do in the weeks coming, but his mind was still reeling and he was finding it hard to concentrate. Stil…

 _Win the Games._ That was where the answer lay, didn't it? Midas just had to come home, and his father would have no choice but to love him. Midas wondered if his father would give him a token. Then again, there wasn't very much that Gregori could give him that would mean anything. The Redgloves were a materialistic family. They didn't try to deny it. And why shouldn't they appreciate the finer things in life? They had earned them. But all of their finery lay in jewlery and in wine glasses, in leather boots and soft fur jackets. None of that would be accepted as a token, and Midas knew that his father wouldn't give any of it up.

 _Win the Games._ If he just won the Games, Midas would have everything that he wanted.

"I'll be fighting for you, Father," Midas promised.

"Don't," Gregori said. "Fight for yourself. Don't fight for me."

Midas wondered what that meant. ' _Focus on keeping yourself alive'_? Or rather, ' _I won't be waiting for you, so don't bother fighting for me'_? There was always a world of double meanings when it came to his father. When it came to the Redgloves in general.

"Alright," Midas corrected himself. "I'll just fight."

"See that you do."

Gregori walked out of the room without a backwards glance.

* * *

 _Disappointment is a weird feeling,_ Jeanna reflected as Marquin ushered her onto the train. She had almost hoped that someone else would have visited her. Deane. Cen. But no, none of her former friends had visited her. Not that she had expected much. After everything that had happened, everyone in the District had the right to hate her.

At least her District partner wasn't openly glaring at her. He flashed her a smile. Marquin put a hand on Midas's back, trying to push him forward, and Midas kept his facade up as he looked back at the Escort. "Careful," he said in a dangerous tone.

"What was that?" Marquin asked.

"Nothing." The tone was gone.

Midas stepped onto the train.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks so much to GalacticCoach for Midas. We really hope he was written to your liking! Jeanna was created by FandomsForeva (but don't worry, she won't get any special treatment/attention).**

 **Hopefully this chapter was enjoyable for you all. As always, share your thoughts if you can/want to! Feedback is super appreciated, and we'd love to know your opinions, preferences, and predictions regarding these guys.**

 **Until next time!**


	12. Pride and Hopelessness

**District 4**

The citizens of District 4 normally treated Reaping Day as a sort of holiday, eating a big, communal lunch and getting ready for the Volunteers that would of course follow. But this year, the air was much different. The mayor (though his term was nearly up) read the Treaty of Treason with a small quaver in his voice. The Victors watched the Tribute balls apprehensively, no doubt unsure about what would lie within. And the people of the District looked at each other with distrust, with solidarity, with fear.

Coronet Splice, the escort, also seemed to grasp the air in the Town Square. His lipstick this year was black, not his normal bloodred. A clear signal. He deftly opened the first envelope. "Meri Sutherland."

 _No. No. No!_ Meri stared up at the stage, unwilling and unable to believe that her name had just been called. _Why? Why?!_ Meri wildly looked around the square, finding her brother Jaxon, finding her cousin Cain, finding her father—

Of course.

Delsin Sutherland was running for the post of Mayor. It had started out as a mere formality. Mayor Esidian was generally popular around the large District. But over time, Mr. Sutherland had grown to have more people supporting him. And while it wasn't more than a third of the population, they were the third that mattered: the Cliffies, mostly, and the people from West Beach. The part of the District that lived on the outskirts, generally seen as violent. Sometimes living up to the stereotype.

Meri didn't understand why people hated her father—her family—just because they were Cliffies. She made sure that people knew that. But still, just because her father was running for mayor—that didn't mean anything! That couldn't possibly be the reason! This couldn't be her father's fault! Meri let out a small sob, which quickly grew. A tight feeling expanded in her chest, and she slowly fell to the ground, sobbing. The people around her were mostly Cliffies, but their faces weren't friendly. Some had pity. Some had relief. Some had dislike. Meri needed Jaxon. She needed her father. She needed—

"Cain," she breathed, as she saw him coming towards her.

Her cousin and best friend put his arm around her shoulders, lifting her up, and helping her get to the stairs. _Why are you bringing me to them?_ part of Meri wondered. _You're going to be the reason that I'm dead._ She let out another sob, clinging to Cain.

He gave her a huge hug at the bottom of the stage, before melting back into the crowd. Meri took the steps up, humiliated, as Coronet read the second slip.

"Hector—"

 _Don't say it._

"—Hardy."

Hector Hardy let out a small, surprised bit of laughter. He caught glances from all around him. Triumphant. Fearful. _Well, the Hunger Games. That was unexpected._ But Hector's father was a Peacekeeper, and Hector himself had been born in District 2. There was strength bred into him. He threw his shoulders back and strode up to the stage.

The girl—his District partner—was pathetic. There was no other way to put it. He had seen her once or twice, and he knew all about her father. Seeing her crying, knowing that her father must be feeling a lot like she was—it made Hector _sick._ It was just another reason that he wanted to tear the system down.

Which, of course, was why he had been picked.

* * *

"Oh my Capitol," repeated Meri over and over. "Oh my Capitol. Oh my Capitol."

Jaxon was fourteen years old and normally as quiet as an Avox. He was sobbing like he was three. He seemed more panicked than Meri was, which was hard to do, as Meri was very, very afraid.

"Oh my Capitol. Oh my Capitol."

Delsin was in a state of shock. He stared at his daughter as if he had never quite seen her before, a blank look on his face, but a look of terror in his eyes. It had been eight years since Meri's mother had died. And now he was in danger of losing his daughter. Cain's parents were crying as well, but they looked worried for Delsin as well as for Meri.

"Oh my Capitol. Oh my Capitol."

"Enough!"

That was Cain. He still had tears running down his face, but he had a determined look on his face. Meri looked up at him, hopeless. "Cain…"

"No! No! Meri, you're not going to die!"

"Oh, Cain."

"No!" Cain had a manic look in his eyes. "First things first. What comes first?! Oh, Capitol, how do I not know...token."

Meri touched the necklace at her throat. It was made with the tooth of a shark that had washed up on West Beach years ago. "This."

"Good. Yes." Cain turned to Delsin. "Well? Say something."

"Be nice!" Meri insisted.

"Cain is right." Delsin's voice, though practically cracking and fear-laden, was still the powerful one that had won over part of the District. "I'm sorry, Meri. I'm being selfish. I've _been_ selfish."

"No!" Meri protested.

"Yes. I'm so, so sorry, Meri. This is all my fault."

"No! It's—it's—"

"Meri, I haven't been there before. But now, Cain is right. We need to think."

"Oh, Dad." Meri didn't know what to say. _I'm going to die anyway?_ That didn't seem quite right. She didn't want to admit that she had no chance, and she probably had a better one than the whelps from 12, anyway. But even her District partner was so much stronger than she was. And there probably wouldn't be a Career alliance this year, anyway! Without an alliance, she had no chance.

"Angle?" Cain asked, looking at her.

Meri shook her head. "I don't know. I'm not strong. I'm not pretty. I'm not smart. I'm not mysterious."

"You're all of those things!" Cain protested. "Meri, listen to me! You have to stay strong! You have to come back!" He enveloped her in a hug.

They had been best friends for as long as Meri couldn't remember. She didn't want to face the Games without him. Meri sniffed. "I guess you're going to have to...to win the swimming contest after all."

Meri had never even been a contender in that contest. She could barely stand being in the water at all. "I'm going to miss you, Meri," Cain said. And then, "oh, Capitol. That sounds bad. I'll miss you while you're gone. But not after that. Because you're coming back."

"One minute!" a Peacekeeper called.

 _No!_ It was too soon! "I love you, Cain," Meri sobbed. "I love you, Jaxon."

Her younger brother threw his arms around her and pressed his head into her shoulder. "I love you, Meri. Come back." There was no hope in his eyes.

"I love you, Uncle. Love you, Auntie."

The two of them gave her a hug before leaving her alone with her father.

He hugged her, stroking her unbraided dirty blonde hair. "I love you, Meri. You're so strong, my beautiful little girl. You're the most wonderful daughter I could have asked for. I love you more than anything. We'll be fighting to bring you back. Somehow. And you just...you just…"

"I'll try, Dad."

"Time's up!"

Meri's father pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her hand, and then he was dragged out.

* * *

Jupiter Hardy, Hector's father, was working the edges of the crowd as a Peacekeeper. It took him ten minutes to finally get out of his job and get to the goodbye room in the Justice Building. "I warned you," was the first thing that he said.

"About what?" Hector knew that it was his job to play dumb, just as it was Jupiter's job to catch him.

"About your... _rebellion."_ He spat the word out like it was dirty seawater. "I warned you. This is what fools like you get."

"Don't be stupid," Hector said. "I wasn't chosen because of... _that._ It was because...I wanted to go in. To make you proud."

Jupiter's face almost softened. Almost. "Well, maybe you'll prove to be more than a waste of my time."

"My only hope in life," Hector sighed.

"You'll probably die."

"I know." Even the girl was taller than he was, to say nothing of the Tributes that would no doubt come from 1 and 2 and even 7 and 10.

"It's no matter to me if you do."

"I know."

"But please, come back."

Hector's eyebrows jumped up at his father's words. His father never showed emotion. His father never told Hector that he cared about him. His father never acted as though he cared. Their relationship had splintered long ago. Hector had no qualms about that. Jupiter's words almost made Hector want to cry. "Did you…"

"It would be humiliating to me if you happened to die in the Hunger Games. You're a Two at heart. Stay strong. Eyes to the mountains."

'Eyes to the mountains' was a common phrase in District 2. It meant strength and loyalty. "Eyes to the mountains," Hector agreed, as Jupiter nodded at him one last time and left the gilded room. _Eyes to the sea._

But before he could get too introspective, Hermes Johnson stumbled into the room. "Your dad already been here?"

"Yeah."

"Was he an asshole?"

Hector snorted, reluctant to say anything. He didn't want to blame his father for anything, and while he was normally able to insult his father without too many qualms, today was an odd day. As much as Hermes felt he had the right to insult Hector's Peacekeeper father, and as much as Hector understood that, Hector couldn't deal with that right now. "He told me to fight."

"About that."

"Hermes!"

"Hector, you gotta listen to me. I want you to come home, okay? But not because you murdered a bunch of kids. You're _better_ than that. The Capitol wants you to be one of their pawns. But you don't have to be."

"Meaning, I die."

Hermes shrugged, looking down. Hector felt some irritation, but something inside of him knew that Hermes was right. District 4 had its own group of rebels, a tiny number of people who hid in the wings and didn't do very much. Hector's group of friends was likely to eventually grow and become the rebels. They didn't do much, nor did they really have the inclination. But their words were definitely rebellious. Their ideas would no doubt make some people in the Capitol very angry.

"I don't want to die, Hermes."

"I know. I'm sorry that I—"

"I know it makes me a bad person, okay? I know that I should be more selfless or just a better person. But Capitol, Hermes. I don't want to die."

"I know, Hector." Hermes cast his eyes to the ceiling, looking hopeless. "And...for what it's worth...I'm sorry that we got you into this."

Hector shrugged. "At least I can finally make my father proud."

Hermes gave him a sharp look, most likely unable to tell whether Hector was joking or not. "Don't fight for him, Hector. Fight for _us._ Fight to come back to me and to the people here that actually care about you. And when you win...well, imagine all of the changes that we could carry out!"

Hector nodded, giving a small smile. "Yeah. That would be pretty amazing."

"Here." Hermes unclasped the necklace that always hung on his neck. It was a simple leather cord, with a gold pendant of a hammer hanging on it. Hermes had never told Hector where he had gotten it, but it was always present around his neck. "Take this."

"Hermes, I can't. This is…"

"Take it, Hector. Look. You've been an amazing friend. I couldn't have asked for a better one. So please...just try and come back. I'll miss you."

Hector was _not_ going to cry. "I'll miss you, too."

"Time's up," said a Peacekeeper from the other side of the door.

Hermes nodded once, and then he was gone.

Hector put on the necklace.

* * *

As expected, Jupiter Hardy was not a part of the District 4 entourage this year. Well, fine. Hector could do this without his father. He just had to have some faith in himself. Hector took one last long look at the Square, at the Justice Building, at the nearby town and cliffs. They were all places that Hector hoped one day would be liberated, though he was starting to doubt that he would ever be around to see it.

The cliffs that Meri came from weren't the ones from around the Square, but Meri looked at those cliffs anyway. She imagined her warm, comforting home. She imagined her father's inspiring words and her brother's quiet strength and her cousin's friendly grins. She tried to draw strength from the sight of her home as she got onto the train.

And with a small wave of the hand from Coronet, they were suddenly gone.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **And so we come to District 4. What did you think of these Tributes? Any suggestions? Comments? Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, we love you guys! See you next update!**


	13. At Six in the Evening

**District 11**

 _Sunny, rainy, overcast, District 11 still the last,_ went the songs that the children sang in the orchards on Reaping Day. The Reaping in District 11 wasn't until 6 in the evening, allowing for a full day of work before everything went to hell. Candy Thebes looked fearfully at the sky, hoping that it wouldn't rain during the Reaping. It was only her second year as an escort, and she didn't need her face to melt off as it rained. Not to mention, it would make the children that went with her _very_ unhappy. They had been sad enough last year, which was ridiculous; they were just going into the Games!

Candy tried to warm up the crowd a bit before heading to the pedestal. She made sure that a camera was catching her good side before ripping open the envelope. "Mist Orchard." It was a good name, a strong, almost _Capitol_ name, but then again, wasn't this the person that the District had voted in? Candy waited apprehensively.

Mist's heart started thumping as her name reached the crowd. She had worked so hard to survive. But now...the Hunger Games. Just the words made her blood run cold. People from 11 went into the Games every year, and they barely ever came back. But people were starting to stare.

 _The Hunger Games._ Mist forced her mouth to twist into a smile and let out a cold laugh. She had almost escaped the Reaping. She took the first heavy step up to the stage and pushed her shoulders back. Straight spine. Head high. The Capitol pigs, the District pigs, they'd never see her cry. Mist caught a glimpse of the Capitol escort smiling slightly. There was a camera close to the stairs, probably catching every movement she made. Mist spat at it. It hit. Mist's smile became more genuine.

Candy's nose wrinkled. She opened the other envelope. "Luke Abaca."

 _Luke Abaca_ — _what?!_ Luke's eyes widened. No. This wasn't possible. There was no reason for him to go in! He wasn't like the Orchard girl. He wasn't a criminal or a rebel or a Capitolite or even a bad person. He was just—

 _Homosexual._ He was just homosexual. Hard reality crashed into him. His District had sent him into the Games simply because he preferred other men.

"Fuck!" Luke hollered. He glared around him. "Fuck you! Fuck you shitheads!" He pushed through the crowd in the seventeen-year-olds section. They had sent him off to die just because he had a boyfriend. His haze of anger kept the fear and shock from fully reaching him. He kept swearing under his breath as he made his way up to the stage. Candy was looking at him with a disdainful expression, and the Orchard girl had a smirk on her face. Luke grabbed the microphone and threw it into the crowd. It hit the shoulder of one of the eighteen-year-olds, and Luke imagined that it was Eddo. Luke kicked over the microphone stand, his rage getting the better of him, and kicked it into the audience.

"Well, really!" Candy looked scandalized. "That was—"

"Unnecessary?" Luke guessed. The truth of what just happened hit him, and his eyes pricked. He was going into the Games. He was going to die. "Well, at least...at least..." He lost his train of thought.

Candy didn't even make the two Tributes shake hands.

* * *

No one came to see Mist off.

Not that it surprised her. What friends she had ever had, what family she had ever had, had come to destruction.

* * *

Luke didn't know what to expect. He knew that Jedd would show up, of course, and maybe even David, if David had time. But what about his parents? His siblings? He didn't know whether to hope for them to come or not. He simply sat and waited for Jedd.

But the first person wasn't Jedd. It was Connie. Dasheen. Luma. Luke refused to let himself cry, even as his estranged siblings quietly entered the room and stood nervously by the door. Luke had managed to keep on communicating with Connie, who was fourteen, and Dasheen, who was eleven. But nine-year-old Luma...Luke had fallen out of touch with her completely. And even now, Luke's eyes kept flitting to the door, as if Eddo would be there as well. Which was ridiculous. Eddo hated him.

"Well," Luke said.

Dasheen burst into sobs and threw himself into his older brother's arms. "I'm sorry, Luke! I'm so sorry!"

"Dash...Dash...it's not your fault. It's—"

"Don't you _dare_ say it's your fault," Connie hissed at him. "It's not your fault! It's Ma and Pa and Eddo and everyone else who did this to you, _not_ yourself!"

Luke was _not_ going to cry, dammit, but a few tears escaped as Connie confirmed what he had already knew: his own parents and brother had voted for him. "Okay the, Connie. But that doesn't change the outcome."

"No. But you're gonna fight, Luke! You're so strong! Everyone tries to hurt you and you stay strong and happy and that's why you can win!"

"Oh, Connie." Luke reached out and took Luma in his arms as well. "I'm glad that you think so."

"It's like you always said," Luma mumbled. "Stay hopeful."

"Yeah. Well…" Luke trailed off before he could destroy his sister's mentality towards life. Just because he was dying didn't mean that she should be any sadder than she would have been. "I'll fight, guys. Hard as I can. I promise."

"Good," Dasheen cried. "I want you to come back, Luke! And then you can come back and live with us and we can be a family again!"

"I want to be a family with you," Luke assured him. "And I'll fight my damndest."

"I love you, Luke. No matter what Ma and Pa say."

That was Luma, and then Luke was crying. "Okay. But...do Ma and Pa know where you are?"

Luma gave him a small scowl. "No. They'd be mad."

"Oh, you guys. You can't get them mad at you. You have to go."

"But Luke!" Dasheen looked like he was breaking down.

"I love you, Dasheen. So much. But you need to go, or Ma and Pa are going to be mad at you and that's not what needs to happen right now. And I love you so much, Luma. I'm sorry that we haven't been able to talk or grow up together but I love you, I promise. And Connie—you're amazing, Con. I'm gonna miss you. I love you."

Luke shooed his two youngest siblings out of the room, but Connie remained, and threw herself into his arms. "Luke."

"Connie."

"Luke...I think...I think I might be like you."

Her voice was almost too quiet to hear, and Luke understood that her search for a camera in the room wasn't because she was going to say something rebellious, but because she didn't want anyone hearing this. And after what had happened to Luke, Luke couldn't really blame her. "And that's okay, Connie. You are who you are."

"Yeah, but…"

"I know. I know that what happened to me is bad. But that's not going to happen to you, too. Okay, so maybe you shouldn't tell Ma and Pa."

"Really? Is that okay?"

Connie looked like she was still five years old and unable to climb trees, or twelve and scared for her first Reaping. Luke's heart dropped to his feet like it was made of lead. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. He just wanted to help his sister. But how could he do that without ruining something important? Like Connie's life? "Of course it's okay, Connie." Maybe the most he could do was give her permission not to have her life ruined. "But someday...someday, maybe you should...Connie, listen. I just want you to be happy. There's no point in living if you're not happy." But then, was that exactly true? Was life worth living _just because,_ or not?

"Are you happy, Luke?"

"Yes. Or...I was. But Jedd is amazing, okay? And I want you to be able to have someone like that. Someday."

"Okay, Luke. I love you."

"I love you, Connie."

And then she was gone.

Luke threw himself back and let himself sob.

But not for long, before Jedd was in the room and had Luke in a hug. "Oh, Luke. Luke, I'm so…"

"If you tell me you're sorry, I swear I'll…" Luke trailed off, unable to think of a threat that wouldn't be overkill or pathetic.

"Luke, you have to come back."

"I know. I'm sorry, Jedd, I just…"

"Here."

Jedd handed him a small ring. It was tin, maybe pewter, with rough edges and clear hammer marks. Luke's eyes started tearing up again. "Oh, Jedd."

"I was gonna…" Jedd swallowed. "After the Reaping. I was gonna ask you to marry me. I love you, Luke."

"Oh, Jedd. I love you." Luke took the ring. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "And if I get back...of course I'll marry you. I love you, so much. But listen, Jedd...if I don't make it back. You have to move on."

"Luke, no!"

"I want you to be happy, Jedd. Please be happy."

"Time's up!"

"Luke, I love you!" Jedd was practically being dragged out of the room, and _why were they being so cruel_ and Luke wanted to lash out at something but he couldn't, he wasn't strong enough or brave enough…

"I love you, Jedd! I love you!"

"I love—"

And then Jedd was gone.

Luke looked at the ring in his hand and slipped it onto his finger.

 _I'll fight,_ Luke promised. _I'll try. I'll fight._

* * *

It _did_ start to rain as the Tributes made their way onto the train, pointedly avoiding each other.

"You'll love the Capitol," Candy promised the two of them, hoping to make them at least look a bit happier for the cameras.

Luke ignored her. Mist gave her the middle finger.

"Well, really!" Candy gasped, looking scandalized.

The last Tribute train made its way towards the Capitol.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Luke Abaca (17); Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **And there you have it. The Reapings are over. We hope that everyone enjoyed them, or at least came away with some sense of who these people are. We understand that a lot of people want to get to the actual Games, but we will have some more pre-Games stuff before we get there. Just bear with us. Thanks for reading!**

 **Question of the Week: If you had to choose one of these people for a sibling, which one would it be?**


	14. Some Friendships (Averted)

**District 1**

Paris tried to avoid looking at his District partner. He didn't want to embarrass her, nor did he want to feel sorry for her, not when his promise to Luca still hung over him. Not to mention, as she was a 1 girl, she was probably all too able to use her looks to make him feel sorry for her. _But that's paranoid, right?_ Paris bit his lip, turning over the small emerald in his hands. It looked real. It must have been a lot for Luca to give up.

And now his District partner was doing that thing, where she'd give a few sobs and then heave in a few breaths as if she was trying to stop herself from crying. Paris finally looked at her. Her eyes were red, and tears were down her face, but her dress and hair were impeccable. What was going through her mind, now that she was going into the Games? Paris knew what her mother had done. But that didn't make it her fault, right? Paris realized that he was just avoiding the problem. Why had _he_ been picked? What had he ever done?

Adalicia stared out the window that the rapidly-moving District. They weren't too far away from the Capitol, she knew that much from school (which was just another bad memory nowadays). For a moment, she found herself envying the mine rats from 12, who had a much longer time before getting to the Capitol. Of course, everyone would get there eventually, but still.

"Well, how are you two feeling?" Rainbow entered the room, a huge smile on her face.

Paris didn't answer her, feeling bitterness towards the Capitol woman. Adalicia forced a smile on her face. It was like she and Vasyklo had discussed. Adalicia had a chance to trick everyone into thinking she was an innocent little girl. She had to use that. Adalicia called on the social strength that she had had before the accident. "I'm feeling…" a wave of sobs threatened to overwhelm her. "Fine, thanks. When do we get to the C-Capitol?"

Rainbow smiled at Adalicia. _So she_ is _using her looks,_ Paris decided. Well, that just meant that his District partner had gotten a whole lot more dangerous. Paris wanted to trust her, he really did. He wanted to believe that at least this small thirteen-year-old girl could be innocent. But he now knew in his heart that there was no one that he could really trust.

 **District 2**

Faustia for the life of her could _not_ figure out her District partner. And the truth was, it probably _would_ end up being a matter of life.

He was glaring at her, not bothering to hide his anger. Faustia wasn't sure whether that meant that it wasn't safe to be in an alliance with him. He was known for his hate of the trained Tributes, after all, but still. He was a Two. He was from home. If Faustia couldn't trust him, then could she trust anyone?

 _Stupid,_ she reprimanded herself. Of course she couldn't trust anyone! It was the Games, not some training game that she was playing with her friends. Well, not point in putting it off… "So, your opinion on the alliance?"

He gave a small snorting laugh. "You mean, the Careers?"

"What else would I be talking about?"

Ash glared at Faustia. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to talk to _anyone._ He wished that Robin was here. "You mean, if I don't piss off some fisher so much that they kill me in training, and if the audience doesn't kill me on interview night, and if I don't off myself before the Games start, and if I don't die in the Bloodbath...you would want to be in an alliance with me?" So maybe he had been a bit darker than he had intended. But what did it matter anymore?

Faustia raised her eyebrows. "You're at least a little bit trained, right?"

Ash's mind buzzed with anger. What was she trying to imply? "I'm not one of you. You know that, right?"

"We're one and the same. Look to the mountains, and all."

Ash couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "Do you actually think that the Career alliance is happening this year?" Robin would have wanted him to join. Robin would have said that it was the best option for survival. But Robin wasn't here.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Oh, my dear District partner. Don't you think that there's going to be a bunch of people like me this year? Washed-out non-Careers who don't want to be in your little alliance?"

"My _little alliance_ has been the source of Victors for years, Ash Gabbro, and don't you forget it. And let me remind you that no matter what happens, there's going to be the strong and the weak. There always are. So which are you?" Faustia hoped that she was reading Ash correctly. He seemed like the type who could be easily intimidated, especially in an emotional, terrifying situation like the one he was no doubt in right now. She had to assert herself as the more dominant member of their pair.

"I don't think it matters between 'strong' and 'weak,' or whatever you think. There's murderers and non-murderers, and I think I know which camp you are."

Definitely impulsive. Faustia almost had him. She just had to assert herself as strong, and then play off of his fear and need to get home. Because he was right. As much as it was true that Faustia could assemble an alliance out of anyone, she wanted at least one traditional Career at her side. "There's the living and the dead, if that's what you mean."

Ash opened his mouth, and then closed it. He didn't need to validate this Career girl. Maybe there was the weak and strong, living and dead, but he was _not_ going to make himself a Career.

 **District 3**

Zara and Cabe snuck glances at each other, each sizing up the person who would become their competition in a week. Zara had no wish to speak to him. Nearly everyone in the District hated her family, and the Cordas had been cruel to them in the past. Cabe had no wish to speak to her. His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest, and he had a feeling that if he tried to speak, he wouldn't be able to. He found himself wishing that his mother was with him, and then hated himself for that wish. He was going into the Games. He couldn't afford to be weak.

"Have you two already had lunch?" Zelleck asked them. His voice was neutral. Zara wished that he would show emotion. She couldn't trust people who acted like computers.

Cabe gave a small nod. Zara rolled her eyes. Her family didn't have the money to feed everyone on a day when they weren't getting wages.

"Well, we'll have dinner in a few hours. We'll watch the Reaping reviews after that. You can go to your rooms. Maybe sleep. Or not. Do whatever you want. Everyone is here to help you."

Neither of them responded. "You two don't talk much, huh?" Zelleck asked.

Silence.

"Well, you better learn to. You aren't going to get any alliances like this, not to mention that it'll be a disaster for the interviews. And I could do without any more disasters."

"Oh, sure!" Zara burst out. "I'm so _sorry_ that we'll be _inconveniencing_ you. It's not like we're about to _die_ or anything—"

"It is an honor to compete in the Games _._ "

Cabe spoke up in a small voice. "As wonderful as it is to have the chance to serve the Capitol—" he choked on the words— "chances are, we will be dead in less than a month. It's a bit…"

"Terrifying?!" Zara offered.

"Intimidating," Cabe said.

Zara's glare was back on her face. She glared at the opulent train. She glared at Zelleck and at Cabe. Cabe tried to wipe all emotion from his face, but he was shaking like a leaf, but his words were coming back to haunt him. _I'll be dead in less than a month._

 **District 4**

Hector stared out of the window at the scrublands that were now going by them, feeling sick. He _never_ should have started talking to Meri. They had been on the train for about an hour, and while they each had rooms, they had opted to get a head-start on identifying plants by reading the book that Coronet had offered them. He and Meri had started talking. And the sick thing was—he didn't hate the girl. She was optimistic, too optimistic for where they were in life, but she wasn't mean or rude. She was almost...kind.

Meri was having the same thoughts. Hector's gang of friends were notorious for having rebellious leanings. Meri's father was running for mayor, and Meri had been brought up with the knowledge that rebels were dangerous and violent and wanted to destroy the system. But Hector wasn't awful. Meri kind of enjoyed spending the last hour with him. She didn't know if she could hurt— _kill_ —him without some serious damage to her own mentality.

 _Then again, isn't it possible that I'm already insane? After all, insanity comes from trauma, and we've all had our fair share of that. Dad wanted to make me see someone after Mom died. But then again...would a crazy person even be having these thoughts?_ Meri gave a small shudder.

"You okay?" Hector asked, and then kicked himself under the table for asking the question. He could not come off as weak. He could not let his District partner think that they might be friends. The stakes were too high. _But isn't everything that I've tried to work for based off the idea that the stakes are never too high for humanity? The Capitol's game is changing us. It's what they get a kick out of. Am I already that different?_

"Fine," Meri said. Her voice still had the sound of tears on it, but it was at least getting more upbeat. Then again, that wasn't necessarily a good thing. "Just a bit cold, I guess."

"Four is pretty warm. I guess we'll probably have trouble in the Arena if we can't even handle this." Hector hadn't meant to bring up the Arena, and their impending death, but somehow it was hard to stay off of the topic.

"Maybe it'll be another desert. Then it'll be the Twos that are having trouble—" Meri gagged slightly. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't. Do this."

"What do you mean?" Hector knew what she meant. He didn't want to know.

"I mean...I'm not...I'm not saying that I'm a good person, or whatever, you know? But...I don't...I don't want to talk about other people dying. Or having a hard time. It makes me feel…"

"Squicky," Hector finished.

Meri gave a small smile. She was starting to cry again. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

Hector shrugged. "You're not being stupid. You're being human."

 **District 5**

Robin lay on the soft bed in her room on the Tribute train. The room was bigger than her entire house at home, and the colors were vibrant and beautiful. They almost gave her a headache. The color fractured through her tears and made the room spin.

She had been sobbing for the last hour, but after a while, she had run out of tears. Now she was quietly crying. The red feather was on the table next to her, but she didn't have the strength or wish to look at it. She didn't want to remember her parents' plea of hope. What was the point of having hope? Hope had never helped her in the past. Robin had never felt so alone.

Across the hallway, Landon sat on his bed, obsessively tugging and twisting his bracelet. He tried to sense his father's presence, as if the peril that he was in could somehow make a ghost return to watch over him. He shook those thoughts out of his head. No, he was alone. He knew that he should have been doing something productive. Coming up with a game plan. Charming the escort and mentor. Even lifting heavy things just to try and build up strength, or eating a lot to build up fat reserves. Right now, he had nothing. ' _Do whatever it takes'_ was not a game plan.

 **District 6**

It was the first time that Percival had been on a train since the Line 7 Incident—no. Percival squeezed his eyes shut. _Not my fault._ Zoe watched him curiously, wondering what was going on in his mind. Was he thinking about derailing the train? _No. I've got it backwards. I'm the psychopath here, not him._ And Zoe had bigger fish to fry.

Zinnia gave her two Tributes a contemptuous smile. "So. You two have got to make a good impression, understand? Any strengths we should discuss? No problem with getting a head start, after all."

Zoe had a feeling that Zinnia was hoping they would say that they weren't talented, just so that she could ignore them for the rest of the week. Percival gave the two of them a glare. "Why would I tell you my strengths? Especially around _her._ " He indicated his head towards Zoe.

"That hurts, honey." Zoe flashed him a shining smile. She was used to dealing with crotchety people like Percival, the kind that thought they had seen oh-so-much and were above little things like happiness and hope. Well, he knew nothing. _Nothing._ Zoe had seen a lot, and she was willing to bet that whatever Percival had been through wasn't as bad as what she had seen.

Percival felt Zoe's gaze on him and decided that he did _not_ like his District partner. She probably thought that she was strong and pretty enough to survive, and while he wasn't going to deny the fact that she was probably strong and was definitely a bit attractive, he couldn't _stand_ it when people looked down on him. Slum rat or no, she had grown up with a rich(er) family. She was privileged. She had _no idea_ what he had been through. "Don't lie to me, Skull."

Zoe's gaze became as cold as her surname. " _Don't_ call me Skull _._ "

Percival wanted to say more, but his preservationist instinct warned him against it. He just ignored her, looking down the hall. Though the train was fancy and richly decorated, with bright lights and vivid colors, being back on a train at all brought up memories of his childhood. Memories of being treated like a slave, a dog, working on a baggage train. His glare intensified, and he focused it on Zinnia. She was an instrument of the Capitol. She was the reason he was here.

Zoe watched Percival glare at Zinnia. He was angry, no doubt, but his anger didn't seem sustainable. He could be a useful ally, but chances were, he'd stab her in the back at the first opportunity.

Zoe knew her fair share of backstabbers. She had betrayed her fair share of people. And she wasn't about to be naive, not now. Not when the consequences were death.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Luke Abaca (17); Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **What's this? Actual character interaction? Luckily, things will be getting more exciting from this point on. We hope that we did a good job writing these characters! Thanks to all of our reviewers, and if you have any suggestions, make sure to tell us!.**

 **Question of the Week: Which Tribute would be your best friend?**


	15. Fighters and Fodder

**District 7**

Both Acacia and Kaede had grown up with some small luxuries, which was why they were able to eat the rich food on the table without acting like slum rats from 6 or throwing up at the richness of the food. Mathilda had a scowl on her face, but she hadn't made any cruel comments quite yet. Finally, when they were eating a soup, she started talking. "So. You two were picked because you were too privileged."

Acacia blanched. Kaede gave a small nod. He didn't trust himself to talk. Every word that came out of his mouth had to be calculated to make a great effect, and his mind wasn't working right now. _No. Snap out of it,_ Kaede told himself. He didn't have the room for weakness now. Every facet of his being had to be focused on making it back. He shot Acacia a disdainful glance. The girl was cannon fodder if he had ever seen one. She was practically crying again already.

"Well, at least you're not psychopaths or slum rats like the rest of the Districts will have. That gives us a head start."

At the word 'psychopaths,' Acacia gave another sniff. Kaede and Mathilda both focused their gazes on her, and Acacia miserably looked into her golden soup, the pearl weighing heavily in her pocket. Acacia wanted to be strong. But she couldn't help but feel that the world was against her. And she didn't want to die! And if she did, then couldn't it be quick?! She had seen deaths of Tributes like her at the hands of the crazies and Careers in previous Games. She didn't want that to be her fate.

"Look at me, girl," Mathilda said. Her voice was pretty, musical, flowing, probably augmented by the best Capitol technology. But the way she said it was rough and ugly. "You're probably going to die. I'm not going to lie to you. But you keep your head down, you give up right now, and I'm going to give up on you, too. Your District partner is at least a bit promising. I would love to just focus on him. And I _will_ focus on him if you keep acting like a lost cause. All the sponsors, all the attention, goes to him. Understand?"

Acacia was shivering. She didn't know why. Kaede almost hoped that Acacia would just give up right now. Maybe it was mean, but this was the Hunger Games. He didn't have hope to waste on other people.

 **District 8**

Jeanna took a tentative sip of the sparkling liquid and spat it out immediately. "It's _bubbly!"_ It was much sweeter than anything Jeanna had ever tasted before, too, but there was a slightly sour undertone as well. Marquin was glaring at her, disgust in his eyes. She went red.

"Lemon sparkle," Midas said, taking a sip of his own drink. He smiled at Jeanna. It was friendly. It felt comforting. Jeanna closed her eyes. She couldn't trust anyone, not even her District partner, who seemed by all means kind. Jeanna tried to smile at him, but couldn't.

Midas considered the small girl who was his District partner. The name Jeanna Rasch was infamous around District 8. Temple Street Factory 3 wasn't by any means the largest, but it worked to turn wool and linens and silks from all around Panem into sheets of fabric that could be turned into clothing and drapes and anything that the Capitol desired. The explosion there had caused a shut-down of the factory for three weeks and damage to the packaging plant that was next to it. Midas's father had reported that one man had lost an arm. Midas had no doubts that it had been an accident. It was really a shame that she had been forced to leave her miserable existence for certain death. Still, Midas tried to make his smile as friendly as possible.

Chances were, there were going to be a lot of emotionally unstable young teenagers like Jeanna in this year's Games. Midas's reflections had given him an answer to his worries: use their fear. He wasn't going to kill them himself, no, that would make him a villain and Midas had no appetite for murder anyway. But he had seen enough Games to know that an alliance could benefit him. All that he had to do was make the younger Tributes trust him. Still, Midas had to get Jeanna to trust him while still making Marquin believe that he should be the main priority, not to mention convincing sponsors that Midas would be the winner of that year. Midas had a lot to juggle.

But he was confident that he could do it. He took another sip of the Lemon Sparkle.

Jeanna smiled back at Midas and hoped that maybe, just maybe, they could help each other.

 **District 9**

"So, why are you two going in?" Silvian asked them.

Kronos's lip curled, and his mind buzzed with anger. Silvian Mare obviously didn't care about either of them, and was probably just in the job of escort to get ahead on the gossip. Why else would he ask that question? He glanced at Florence, who was doing an excellent job of pretending to cry. She might have even fooled someone who wasn't him. She gave Silvian a shrug, and let out another sob.

"Cut the crap," Kronos snapped. "You were sent in because you killed that boy."

Silvian gave a dramatic gasp. "Oh, my!"

"Liar," Florence sniffed. "You're the crazy one here! You lie about everyone!"

"How dramatic! Two Tributes, each accusing the other of the greater evil, and—"

"Shut up," Kronos growled.

The smile that Florence shot him behind Silvian's back was as red as the wine that he was drinking. Florence didn't like her District partner, that much was for sure. He was too smart, too astute, and too much like her. Florence had a feeling that there could only be one of them. "...Kronos?" Florence put on a small voice. "Is it true about you and the...the animals?"

Kronos's glare could have melted iron. But two could play that game. "I'm sorry, Flo." He gave her a small smile.

Her reaction was immediate. " _Don't_ call me Flo," she hissed. Realizing what she had done, Florence forced herself to sob a few more times.

So this was how it was going to be. Kronos knew that Florence was probably going to be a formidable enemy. But Kronos had to be the stronger one.

 **District 10**

"Well, the two of you seem like a friendly bunch."

Both Talon and Fiori looked at Alodia with annoyed eyes. If Alodia had been joking, neither one of them had gotten it. Alodia swallowed, and the the people in the room turned back to the television. Jack Sorrel, their mentor, was the first to speak when District 1 was finally Reaped. "The girl's cute. Watch out for that. She could be a psychopath."

"You think everyone is a psychopath," Talon deadpanned.

District 2's girl actually grinned, and Fiori had no doubt that she was another damned _Career._ Fiori hated those people, those _pigs_ who worked _with_ the system to aid the Capitol in the murder of twenty-three children each year. Fiori wanted to spit at the screen. The boy at least didn't seem to be a Career, but Alodia still spoke up: "Watch how he stands. He's strong. And chances are, that girl is going to be one of your biggest competitors, if not _the_ biggest."

"Bar a psychopath," Jack said.

"You and your…" Talon grimaced at the floor. "What does it matter, anyway? We're just going to die."

Fiori's eyes grew hot at Talon's words, but she refused to let herself cry. She was _not_ just going to give up, to roll over and die. That was what they wanted. "You're hopeless."

"I'm realistic."

District 3's pair were a traditional short, thin pair, though the boy...Talon thought that he looked better nourished than most of the Tributes that came out of 3. The girl glared at the crowd, who obviously seemed to recognize her.

"Let's hope they're not psychopaths." Jack was practically sweating.

Talon glared at him. "Shut up."

Fiori resolutely looked away from her District partner. Everyone in his part of the District knew about him, Talon Prime, the boy who lived alone even though he was only eighteen, a psycho that would have made Jack jump out the window if he knew. Fiori didn't see much chance of getting along with him, nor did she want to.

District 4 came up, and Talon was relieved to see that the girl was crying. _Finally. Cannon fodder from Four._ But the boy was stocky and had muscles that alluded to years on a fishing boat.

"Let's just hope they're not—"

"Shut up!"

 **District 11**

District 11 had no central area, rather having small towns scattered across a wide expanse of land, each based around a certain farming settlement. Luke had lived in one of the westernmost settlements, growing strawberries. He had never heard of Mist Orchard before. And probably luckily, she hadn't heard of him. Not that it mattered anymore. The minute that Candy had asked why he was picked, he had told the entire room that he was homosexual. Seeder had just nodded. Candy had patted him on the head. Mist hadn't visibly reacted.

She was intently watching the screen, wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed off a fair amount of muscle, some scars on her arms and upper back, and tattoos. Candy had given her a resigned smile. "You got a crush, boy?" she asked Luke, realizing he was watching her.

"Do you not know why I was voted in? I think I was just about as famous as you were."

"Shut the fuck up."

The girl from 5 was a mess, practically collapsing as she went onto the stage. The boy was a different affair. Angry eyes, strong body. Mist could tell that he was a threat. He might have been nice. He might have been a good person or had family or had a future. But it was him or her. And Mist was staying alive.

District 6. The girl was pretty. Too pretty. And Mist could see something in the way that she walked and held herself that she might have been too similar to Mist. There could be only one of them. And Mist was coming home.

Luke could see Mist out of the corner of his eye, and her look was intense. He was starting to become genuinely afraid of her. And Luke wasn't normally afraid of anyone. Then again, Jedd always said that Luke had good instincts...Luke's eyes were burning. He twisted the ring.

District 7 came on, and it was another mental blow to see another crying young girl on the stage. Luke didn't understand. At least he was seventeen! Shouldn't there be some rule that said that only seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds could go into the Games?

Oh, wait.

District 8 gave up another pair of a crying girl and a tall, possibly muscular boy. But still...everyone seemed like a threat. And that was a bad way to be thinking. Luke couldn't allow himself to think of people as threats. He didn't want to become a changed person already. And it wasn't necessarily an inevitability that he would become a bad person! Luke feverishly twisted the ring. _Oh, Jedd..._

 **District 12**

Ezrael fingered the small piece of fabric that Scorlia had given him before he had left. Part of him was terrified that it would fall apart in his fingers. Or catch on fire. Or be blown away in the wind. He focused on the screen. District 9 was up. The District looked _happy_ that their two Tributes were up there. Ezrael shuddered.

"You okay?"

Ezrael had barely heard Khol speak. He looked at her, surprised. "Um…" He swallowed, unable to finish.

District 10 flashed on next. The boy tried to run away, and started screaming at the crowd before the footage cut away to the two Tributes shaking hands. Khol swallowed, wanting to cry. In normal years, the people who ran away were weak and would probably die in the Bloodbath. But this one...he looked strong. Too strong. And there was a wild look in his eyes. Khol had never really considered just how much danger he was going into until now. Murderers, crazy people. All much worse than he was.

District 11 was almost worse. The girl spat into one of the cameras, the commentators joked above how fiery she was, but Ezrael had a nasty feeling that she was going to get hell in the Arena. The boy, too, was raging at the fact that he had been chosen. He threw the microphone into the audience, leaving his escort and mayor with a scandalized look on their faces.

Khol swallowed as they arrived at District 12. The sight of his District on screen made him ache with homesickness. He wanted his mother. He wanted Isadora. He wanted...he just wanted a friend. But there were no friends in the Capitol. Khol burst into tears as his name was read off. It _sickened_ him, hearing his name read out as the girl Tribute. It sickened him, knowing that the District wanted him gone.

"It's...it's not that bad," Ezrael tried to tell Khol. But there was an emptiness to his assurances. In Ezrael's pain and indignation of being chosen just because he was an orphan, he forgot why Khol was here. It was because she—he—claimed that...they...were a boy. The two of them had been in the same class, but had never talked to each other. Ezrael didn't talk to anyone but the other Wards.

"It is," Khol choked out.

Ezrael was feeling incredibly uncomfortable, which just confirmed his idea that he was a bad person. "Well...I mean…"

"Ezrael Ward. You know that we're going to die."

"Yeah, but…"

"Ezrael, do you _want_ to die?"

"No."

"Then why aren't you worried?!" Khol was practically screaming. He didn't know why he was gettting so angry at Ezrael. But Khol hated how neutral he was being. They were in mortal peril! And he was refusing to accept that! "Ezrael, look at me! I'm going to die and I'm going to die with everyone thinking that I'm a girl! No one is going to remember me except to think about what a freak I was, and I'm going to _die_ and I don't want to die!"

"Khol, I'm sorry." Ezrael was crying, too. The commentators were discussing the promising Tributes. Ezrael was not surprised to see that his face wasn't on the screen.

He was cannon fodder. And everyone knew it.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Luke Abaca (17); Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **To clarify something, Khol is not a girl. Khol's pronouns are he, him, his. However, people thinking of him from the outside may incorrectly refer to him as she/her/hers.**

 **Lemon Sparkle is post-apocalyptic Sprite.**

 **To anyone celebrating a holiday this month, have a good one! We love you guys, see you next update!**

 **Question of the Week: If you could choose one thing that would survive the apocalypse, what would it be?**


	16. The First Night

When Adalicia was seven, she had the idea to use herself to advertise her father's jewelry. She was a cute kid. District 1 was filled with cute kids, after all. But Adalicia had that special something, that _innocence,_ Vasyklo called it, that made people want to buy the jewelry that she had on. In hindsight, Adalicia wondered if it was because people thought that they could have the same innocent happiness that she did if they had the jewelry.

Now, she tried to draw on that same innocence that had gotten her family more money. Covered in gold body paint, wearing a jeweled leotard, Adalicia knew that she didn't look awful. But this was her first chance to get sponsors. She had to be able to do that.

Paris stolidly ignored Adalicia, hoping that he looked attractive. Mark had looked amazing during the chariot rides, even Paris had admitted that. Still, Paris's mind was drawn off of the chariot rides and back to the impeding Games every moment. He couldn't concentrate on the matter at hand.

He wished that he was farther back in the chariot parade. He felt vulnerable at the front, with everyone watching him, judging him. He would have liked to observe the other Tributes, too. District 12 would be able to watch everyone. Though Paris doubted that a from 12 would be smart enough to do that.

Faustia had been observing everyone before the parade had started. The boy from 1 was a definite option, as was the boy from 7 and the pair from 10. District 4 didn't look awful, but she had been counting on having a pretty, skilled 1 girl in her alliance. And Adalicia definitely did not fit that mold. Faustia was confident that she could adapt and make herself an alliance. But still, it would be hard to break the mold that had been in place since some of the earliest Hunger Games.

Dressed in a skintight mining outfit and holding a pickaxe, Faustia caught sight of herself on a screen. Fake rock dust covered her face, and her curly hair was in a tight braid. She looked rather attractive. Faustia knew that her angle was 'professional and ready,' so she stared straight forward, flashing a few smiles, but otherwise not acknowledging the crowd. Her idiodic District partner was glaring at the crowd.

Definitely not a survivor.

Ash wondered if Robin was watching. He hoped that he was. But then again, wasn't it selfish of him to hope that Robin was watching, since Ash knew that he wasn't going to go home? Robin deserved to get over him and find someone else. _Capitol...I need to focus._ Ash tried to banish the glare, but it didn't work. Well, whatever. Hopefully the Capitol would interpret it as him being threatening and Career-like, _ooh, scary._

Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd understand how much he hated them. _Be smart,_ Ash reminded himself. But in the end, what did it matter? Ash didn't plan on going home. Why pretend?

It took a lot of effort for Zara to keep the glare off of her face. She was dressed in a tunic of gromits and gears, which was cold on her skin, to say the least. Not to mention, the cheers were turning into boos as the District 3 chariot followed District 2. Zara just hoped that she looked better than Cabe. _Not to be selfish...never mind, who am I kidding? Of course that's a selfish thought._

Zara wondered if her family was out in the square, or watching from their crowded apartment. At least the Capitol food was nice, and there was so much of it, too. Zara had never eaten so well, or so much in one day. She had probably eaten more today than she did in a normal week. Strange, colored faces blurred past her as the chariots went by, and Zara could feel the noise and gaiety of the Capitol threatening to suck her in. _No,_ she reminded herself. She was a player in this game. Not a watcher. Never a watcher.

Cabe was afraid that he might pass out. He had no doubts that he would be the most scrawny, pathetic-looking male Tribute this year. And with that thought...what chance did he have at winning? Cabe swallowed as he remembered that he had a very, very low chance. Was it worth it to deny the fact that he was going to die?

 _...I've still got a chance, right?_ Cabe smiled up at a camera, and at least there were more cheers at that action. If Cabe managed to snag some sponsors, that would be amazing. But really, Cabe just hoped that his mother had seen it. No doubt his parents were at home, quietly watching the feed, never touching or interacting with each other. 'I love you,' Cabe mouthed at the screen.

Hopefully she had seen it, and understood.

The actions of smiling and waving at crowds had practically become muscle memory over the last year. Meri's father's campaign had led to some scrutiny of the Sutherland family, so at least Meri had a head start in dealing with crowds. At least the mermaid costume didn't look awful on her, no matter how humiliating it was to wear it. Meri felt light-headed, nervous, and at the same time guiltily in love with how in love the Capitol seemed with her.

Meri knew that all of the bejeweled, beautiful people watching her would be cheering on her killer in just a few weeks. But did that make it so wrong to appreciate the attention now? If Meri was going to die, shouldn't she at least make sure that people cared when it happened? Surely, Hector had some opinion. Meri wished that she could hear it without both of them getting in trouble with the government.

Flowers were falling from the crowd, but Hector refused to catch one. He wasn't going to involve himself in this pageantry. He knew that some people enjoyed it, and it was true that this was the least disgusting part of the Games...but when the other parts involved _literal murder,_ there wasn't much contest.

"Grab one!" Hector laughed to Meri.

Meri's face pink under the strange blue makeup. "They're for you, Hector!"

"They're for both of us."

Meri snatched a pink flower that Hector didn't recognize out of the air, and the cheers grew louder. Hector felt some thankfulness rise in him. Maybe Meri actually had a chance. Hector wished, not for the first time, that he didn't want to go home. It would make everything so much easier.

Some of the warmth for District 4 spread onto District 5, and though Robin's windmill costume was ugly, she was grateful for how it covered her like a suit of armor. Robin attempted to raise her arms to wave at the crowd, but it was hard in that outfit. Cheeks burning, Robin lowered her arms, glad that no one could see her. If only Landon was just a bit more friendly, that would make everything easier.

But he wasn't. Robin had to remember that she was on her own. She wished that Alice was with her, and wondered what Alice was doing. Thinking of Alice made her thoughts go to the rest of her District, and bitterness automatically came over her. Robin wasn't normally vindictive, but she hoped that the people who had sent her in felt some small measure of guilt. After all, Robin wasn't like the creepy boy from 9 or like the girl from 6, or even like Landon. She was just...unpopular. Unloved. Not wanted.

Robin was very, very grateful for the way that the headpiece shielded the cameras from the tears falling down her face.

Landon was dressed like Robin, but with a bare chest and a less covered face. There were a fair amount of cheers for him, and while Landon didn't want Kira to watch him getting paraded around like this, at least he had a chance of gaining sponsors. After all, there didn't seem to be a traditional Career pack this year—the commentators on GamesTV had said that the boys from 1 and 2 hadn't been trained.

So Landon tried to play the crowd. After all, these people weren't the ones in 5, the ones who judged him and whispered about him ( _Landon Mercer is a dirty cheater, Landon Mercer is a lying pig_ —ha. He was protecting his family and himself). A plan: with the lack of Careers, there had to be other Tributes that stepped up.

Landon would be one of them.

Zoe's stylist had taken one look at her and immediately changed the outfit that she was supposed to have. The train operator uniform (though it looked so far from it that Zoe assumed the man had never seen one) was now much skimpier. Zoe knew that she just had to deal with it. She had experienced much worse with her father, and now her father could never get at her again. That was more than enough.

Zoe gave the cameras waves, trying to make her smile as seductive as possible. With no pretty, mature District 1 girl to play the sexy angle, Zoe knew that she was likely the next in line to take it. And she wasn't going to object. Zoe was going to do whatever it took to get home. Nothing was too debasing or immoral if it meant that Zoe got a second chance at life.

Percival angrily stewed in his own outfit. He looked _awful_ compared to Zoe, and being back in one of these uniforms made him remember his years on the baggage trains. Percival didn't dare look backwards, lest all of the chariots behind him somehow explode and derail themselves. _No. There's no baggage here. No chance of a crash. And it wasn't my fault, anyway!_ Percival tried to drag his face into a smile and wave at the crowd. But Zoe was stealing the attention.

Ha. Maybe Percival _should_ somehow derail the chariots—

No. He wasn't—he wasn't going to think about that! Never again!

Acacia was dressed as a tree. A pine tree. Acacia hadn't bothered to point out that acacias were another type of tree. Her stylist had been friendly and helpful, even putting Acacia's pearl onto a leather bracelet. It was nice to have a friendly face, especially when the two mentors, Lee and Aravis, and Mathilda had both focused on Kaede from the first moment. Acacia wanted to curl in on herself, make herself small and untouchable.

Acacia's mother had barely ever let her out of the house. Her contact with humans had been limited to maybe three people. And being suddenly thrown into a situation where _thousands,_ no, _millions,_ no, _the whole world_ was watching her was...overwhelming, to say the least! Acacia had never been so far from home. And Acacia knew that she was never going back.

Kaede didn't know whether to be embittered that he was being associated with Acacia or grateful that he probably looked good just by standing next to her. No one could be attractive as a tree, of course, but his muscular arms were fairly obvious. He kept his face as neutral as possible, but waved at the crowd, trying to flex his arms without making it too obvious. The cheers grew for him.

Good. This was good. Kaede was making it clear that he was a real contender. Still, the knowledge that he was a real contender didn't stop him from sweating and didn't stop the butterflies from coming to his stomach.

As much of a chance as he had, the chances of him dying were exponentially higher.

Kaede tightly gripped the side of the chariot with his free hand.

No. He could _not_ let himself die.

Jeanna wished that she were anywhere else. Literally anywhere else. She could already be in the Arena for all that she cared, as long as she wasn't surrounded by all of these people. (Okay, maybe that was a little far, but still!) Crowds of people were always judging her, blaming her. And after all, she deserved to be blamed.

Jeanna wished that Heather were sitting next to her. Everything was easier with her twin sister. But now, Jeanna knew that it wouldn't be long before all of these glimmering crowds had turned on her, and were eagerly waiting for her death.

After all, that was what they were already doing, wasn't it?

Midas waved at the crowd, giving them the best smile he could. He caught a lilac and blew a kiss back at the crowd, who eagerly screamed even more. The Capitol was so easy to win over. So stupid, too. As bad as Midas looked in his outfit of clashing rags, the Capitol loved him.

Now he just had to hope that he would be able to work up some skills that would keep him alive in time for sponsor gifts to arrive. He glanced back at Jeanna. "You doing okay?"

She gave him a wavering smile. "Y-Yeah."

"Smile at the crowd!"

Jeanna, too, was practically eating out of his hand.

Hmm…

A new idea came to his mind.

Florence made sure that her body language and slightly awkward waves were making her look innocent...or rather, not like a murderer. She couldn't risk anyone in the Capitol figuring out who she was, at least, not before the time was right. Her outfit was perfectly ugly, perfect to make her fit in with former District 9 girls and with everyone else in the parade. Kronos was perfectly angry, allowing her to look more normal compared to him.

So Florence kept her mask up.

For the first time in her life, she had a time frame of when she could let her mask slip off. And that time was ticking down.

And when the clock went to zero, Florence Channing would be a terror upon the Arena.

Strangely, the bright lights and dots of stars were fading out. All that Kronos could think about was Sarah. She had been his best friend for years. Not quite like him, no, but mischievous in her own ways. She had disappeared one day, and no one had seen her again. Kronos sometimes had _dreams_ and shit like that about her escaping to a better place. But everyone knew that she had been killed.

Kronos wondered if he should just let himself die. If he should just let himself see Sarah again. He had no wish to go back to 9 or to live in the Capitol for the rest of his life. Shouldn't someone else win the Games, in that case? Wouldn't Sarah be proud of that? Wouldn't that be—Capitol forbid— _selfless?_

No. Kronos was not selfless. And Kronos didn't want to just go down like a pathetic fodder tribute or mine rat. He glared forward at the Tributes from the upper Districts. They _wanted_ to be here, the bastards. Kronos had to destroy them.

And then...then he would let himself give up.

It was tempting for Fiori to flip off the audience—the whole of Panem. But sadly, she knew that if she let her anger and hatred be shown, her mother and Nikki would likely be killed. Fiori didn't have to like the audience. But if she was going to win...she had to redirect that anger. Make it part of her angle.

Then again, was it selfish to want to win? If she wanted to win, she would have to become a murderer. It would go against every ideal that she had. But—

But Fiori wanted to go home.

Call it selfish—it _was_ selfish—but Fiori just wanted to live. And if it meant that she had to change herself, she'd do it. As long as she got to go home. And after all, Fiori didn't _really_ have to change everything about herself. She'd keep the core of who she was. She'd just...be growing. That's all.

Talon hated his pig costume, and after a bit of work, his nails had gotten under the stitches on the seams. He ripped upwards, not caring if the whole nation saw him naked, as long as he didn't have to wear this _stupid_ outfit..

It tore, but not cleanly. It fell off one of his shoulders, and Talon was _disgusted_ that he was now getting more screentime. People were cheering, watching him, the bastards. He would _destroy_ this place.

And destroying it meant that Talon had to win.

Mist watched the 6 girl do her thing, torn between jealousy and pity. Mist could have taken the position as the charmer of the year, true...but then again, Mist knew that she was strong enough to take another position. Mist was willing to do whatever it took to get home, something that she bet the 6 girl wasn't going to do.

Mist reconsidered her own District partner. Luke was...pathetic. The District had a chance to send in someone that was really hurting them. Someone like Mist, after all. Instead, they had chosen...Luke. Luke was going to die. Mist just hoped that she didn't have to do it...actually...Mist didn't really care or not.

Her first smile of the parade went out. It was toothy and savage, and the crowd _loved_ it.

Luke was getting more and more unnerved by Mist, but he tried to ignore her. The boy ahead of them was stripping his costume off. Luke looked away, starting to blush. He wasn't going to be labelled as the freak for this year, too. Besides...Luke's eyes drifted back to the ring.

Heh. He was _not_ going to cry on national telivision.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment. He had never been in anything drawn by a horse before. He wondered if he could ride a horse before the week was over. That would be amazing. And the ride now...it was like flying.

As stupid as it was, a grin spread across Luke's face as the motion of the chariot bore him forward.

He had never felt so free.

Khol swallowed, appreciating that the outfits were at least gender-neutral. Still, he was the girl here. And he hated that. He wondered if the District was watching, if they were proud, if they were finally accepting him, or if their eyes were full of hate and derisiveness. He wondered if his mother had eaten anything tonight. He wondered if Isadora was watching, and if she was proud.

For the first time, Khol wondered if District 12's hate was maybe related to the fact that he was too like the Capitol. His stylist looked barely human, with bejeweled insect-like eyes. Maybe District 12 saw Khol as something just as strange, something too akin to their oppressors.

But...that didn't excuse it!

Khol flashed a glare at the cameras. Leonis would have scolded him, calling it un-lady-like.

In the week before his death, he might as well start acting like a boy.

"I am a boy," Khol said.

No one could take his identity from him.

Even as Khol said something, Ezrael closed his eyes. The end of the chariot ride was close. And then, the Games would truly begin. The only thing left to comfort Ezrael the piece of cloth still wrapped around his left wrist. He let the faces of Scorlia, Idan, Demix, Milah, and the other kids from the Home come to the front of his mind.

Then he opened his eyes, and forced himself to wave at the crowd.

He had to play the game.

He had to win.

* * *

 **Tributes:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)  
** **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)  
** **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)  
** **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)  
** **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)  
** **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)  
** **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)  
** **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)  
** **D11: Luke Abaca (17); Mist Orchard (18)  
** **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **First of all, we're not trying to say that being transgender/non-binary is akin to having bug-eyes. A reminder to anyone commenting to use correct pronouns, and a reminder to respect everyone's identity generally. Thanks!**

 **Moving on...the week before the Games finally starts. There will probably be five to seven chapters with pre-Games stuff, but that's not a guarantee. Sorry to anyone who wanted to move faster. We're excited to start the interaction.**

 **See you next update!**

 **QotW: If you could have one book on a deserted island, what would it be?**


	17. To Build a Bridge

Faustia was fairly sure that she would be fine in terms of training. The teachers had praised her as being the most talented swordfighter they had seen in a long time, and she wasn't bad with spears or knives, either. She was confident that she was physically stronger than most of the Tributes this year, and knew that she had a calmer head on her shoulders than any of them. And after all, why wouldn't she? Faustia was going home.

So, Faustia spent the first day of training focusing on assembling an alliance. The traditional alliance that had been in place for over ten years included Districts 1, 2, and 4. Faustia knew that she couldn't count on Ash, nor did she want to, at least not until her other opportunities had been exhausted. The District 1 girl, too, was far too weak to be a Career. District 4 looked fairly promising, but she couldn't count on them. She was surprised that she had been the only trained Tribute who had wanted to go in. She had assumed that at least District 1 would have sent in people like her.

Ah, well. No use in looking to the past. The only thing that could help her now was the future.

The pair from 4 were already at the edible plants station, and Faustia was unnerved by how close they were. It wasn't like they had been friends for years, or even that they had known each other, but they seemed far more comfortable together than any of the other pairs this year. That automatically made them a threat.

"Faustia Graston. District Two."

The two of them looked up at her, startled. They would need to work on their awareness, not that Faustia was going to be the one to teach them. The girl was taller than the boy, but while the boy was stocky and clearly muscular, the girl was slim. A splash of freckles across her round face and her large hazel eyes just served to make her look dreamy and younger than she was. The boy had the tip of a tattoo visible, and his hair was spiked up. _Was he some kind of District punk? That's not a reason to send someone in._

"Hector Hardy. District Four." Faustia didn't miss the way that he stumbled on the word 'four.' _I think I found my reason._

"Meri Sutherland. District Four. But I mean, I guess you know that." Meri gave a slight laugh that Faustia didn't return.

"So. The alliance."

The pair exchanged a look, and Faustia was limited to standing and watching them. She _hated_ that.

Meri and Hector had discussed the Career alliance over the past day and a half with their mentors and with each other. Obviously, it would have given them a leg up in terms of survival. Still, both of them had been reluctant. Hector would never tell Meri this while they were in range of listening devices, but his group back in 4 reviled the Careers. Hector, too, despite being the son of a Peacekeeper, disliked the people who volunteered to kill and be killed.

Then there was the issue that neither of them were trained. Hector was strong and able, of course, and Meri had been working her whole life. But neither of them had gotten traditional training. Neither of them were particularly apt with weapons. And putting themselves in what would be an unstable alliance filled with other strong people seemed like a way for them to die.

So Hector was the one who spoke. "We appreciate it, but we think that—"

"For now," Meri interrupted.

"—for now, we'll have to decline your very generous offer."

Faustia forced the smile to remain on her face. It was their prerogative, and while they were being idiots, Faustia couldn't force them. "Well, I'm sad to hear that we won't be working together."

District 4 wasn't responding to her, and Faustia wondered if she wasn't lucky that she had avoided having them as allies. "I'll see you two around."

Midas and Jeanna entered the room, slightly late, and Midas hoped that he hadn't missed any valuable training time. Then again, Midas was aware that the most valuable thing he could have was an alliance. Jeanna wasn't exactly promising, but she was at least something.

She was currently looking around the room. Jeanna was aware that this year, there were a lot of Tributes that were her age, or around it. That should at least make it easier for her to find an ally, right? Jeanna just hoped that Midas was willing to let her follow him around. Jeanna wasn't an extrovert like Chantille. She wasn't smart and good at judging people like Moira, or good at making friends like Heather. She was just Jeanna.

"You okay?" Midas asked her.

Jeanna was so grateful that she had found someone willing to be nice to her. "Yeah. I guess."

"Well, we better start working."

Midas directed them to the edible plants station, where another girl was standing. _District 1,_ Midas recalled. The youngest Tribute this year. Hopefully gullible. They began studying plants alongside her, before she began talking with them.

"I'm Adalicia." Adalicia thrust out her hand. The boy shook it. The girl looked scared. "And you guys are...Jeanna and Midas, right?"

"That's right."

"Cool."

"Has everything been going well for you so far?"

Within a little bit, Midas, Jeanna, and Adalicia were talking. Well, Adalicia was coaxing Jeanna into talking while Midas observed and added his own input when necessary. Adalicia was playing the part of an enthusiastic little girl, and she was doing it well. But not well enough, since Midas could see through her.

He took another look around the room, noting again that there were many Tributes who were on the younger end. He was willing to bet that many of them were like Jeanna, afraid and malleable—

Oh.

Well. Midas's options had just gotten more numerous.

Jeanna was glad that Adalicia was so kind. She knew that there weren't friends in the Hunger Games, but Adalicia almost seemed like it. It was refreshing not to have a room full of people who all knew about what Jeanna—Heather—Jeanna had done. It was refreshing not to be talking with someone who was just waiting for Heather to show up and be better than Jeanna was.

Adalicia was glad that she had met two people who were so great. Something was _off_ with Midas, but Jeanna was perfectly nice, and while Adalicia wasn't completely swayed on the idea of an alliance...what could she do without one?

So when District 8 went to the fire-starting station, Adalicia followed them.

It was better than being alone.

Paris, meanwhile, was being approached by Faustia. He watched her come, and she caught his eye and smiled. "Faustia Graston. District Two."

Paris nodded at her, feeling sick. The first interaction with anyone except for his District partner for the Games, and it was a Career. What if she misread whatever he said, and ended up hating him? Paris didn't want to go down on the first day. He cleared his throat. "Paris Sapphire. District One."

Faustia vaguely recognized his surname from two years ago. "So. The alliance."

"What's...your plan for that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, who's in?"

"District Four isn't, if that's what you want to know."

"That is a helpful piece of information."

The fact that 4 wasn't in the alliance was a big reason not to join. Then again, Faustia was probably the most skilled Tribute here. If Paris wanted to survive, or at least survive the Bloodbath, then joining her would be a good option.

"Who takes their place?"

"The strong ones. The ones who deserve to be there."

And Faustia at least seemed like she had a plan. That was good. Paris had some plans, of course—train in weapons and survival, put on as many calories as possible, blow away the audience—but they weren't necessarily _good_ ones. Faustia would have a steady stream of sponsors. She would have a plan.

Paris just hoped that he wasn't making a huge mistake as he shook her hand.

Zara and Cabe were sticking together mostly out of convenience and a mutual hate of talking with strangers. Not that they were talking with each other, though. They were silently watching a trainer show them how to light fires. Zara wondered why the trainer was acting like this was the end-all be-all when it obviously wasn't. Cabe just hoped that he would survive long enough to put these skills to good use.

"And then, you have to—hey, are you listening?"

"Definitely," Zara snapped.

"You don't have to be here, little miss priss, not if you don't want to."

"Well, you can—"

"Are we interrupting?"

Cabe let out a breath of air as the fight between Zara and the trainer was averted. There were three new people at the station, two younger girls and an older boy who smiled at him. He forced a smile back.

"It's getting too crowded over here," Zara mumbled.

"No, please, stay," said the boy. "We'd love to have you."

Zara snorted. "Are you looking for an alliance or something?" Why was this boy spending time with the younger Tributes? Zara wasn't an idiot. She didn't want a part of whatever this boy was trying to do.

Midas, however, acted as though the question surprised him. "Well, now that you say it...I don't know. I haven't really thought about it, I guess. I mean, Jeanna…" he looked at his District partner. "What do you say?" He just hoped that he wasn't making a mistake.

Jeanna nodded twice, looking relieved.

"And I mean, Adalicia, Zara, Cabe, if you want to join us…"

"How do you know my name?!"

"...the Reapings," Midas reminded her. He hoped that she would just go away.

Zara, for her part, stormed off. "Don't ever say my name again!"

She didn't know why she was being so rude. Of course, Adah always said that she was just a rude person, but Zara had a gut feeling that something was... _off_ with District 8. Cabe could stay if he wanted. But Zara was doing this alone. The way that the Games were _mean_ to be fought.

Zoe was at the knives station. She had been trained with them since she was young, of course, both because her father expected her to go on missions and purely for the reason that she was the daughter of the leader of the Skull. Still, it didn't hurt to brush up on her skills, not when it was the difference between life and death.

The District 10 girl had joined her not long ago, and was ignoring everything that the trainer was telling her. _Better for me, at least._

Zoe threw another knife, hitting close to the bullseye.

"How did you do that?"

Zoe shrugged. "Practice."

Fiori groaned. "I swear, if you're a fucking _District Six_ Career, I might self-destruct."

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was actually from District Two?"

 _Don't mess with me, pretty-girl,_ Fiori thought towards the 6 girl. She didn't have patience for Careers, nor would she ever. "I'd hope not."

Zoe gave a small laugh, and Fiori hated how musical it sounded. Zoe was pretty. Too pretty. And too strong, too. She reminded Fiori of a District 1 girl, almost, and Fiori didn't know whether to hate her for that, or respect her for how strong she was. "Gang."

"What?" Fiori asked.

"I was raised in a gang."

The next knife that Fiori sent spinning out of her hand not only hit the target, but sunk in to the hilt with the force Fiori had thrown it with. Zoe's smile got bigger. "Well?"

"Chicken farm."

Faustia observed the girls at the knife station, sizing them up as potential threats, before she and Paris continued to their next target. The boy from 7 was currently running the gauntlet. Faustia and Paris watched him complete it. His time was good.

Kaede became aware of the District 1 boy and District 2 girl—Careers!—watching him. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and wondered if he should run the gauntlet again. He had been fairly productive all day, getting in survival and weapons practice, but he was running out of time.

The 2 girl interrupted him before he could decide. "Faustia Graston. District Two."

Kaede resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. "Kaede Mitchell. District Seven."

"I'll keep this short. I want you in our alliance."

Kaede's heart began racing more than it had been. "You mean, a Career?"

"I don't use that word, but yes, essentially." Faustia smiled, or maybe it was a smirk. "You seem strong, Kaede Mitchell. And I think that you're willing to do what it takes to get back."

Kaede didn't know whether to act submissive to her or become more confident. He didn't want to make Faustia angry, and he definitely didn't want her to withdraw the life-changing offer to be a Career. It was dangerous, yes, but it improved his chances by a lot. "You're not wrong."

"So what do you say?"

Kaede let the silence between them linger for as long as he could. "Yes."

Landon was at the knives station now, practicing with a long pair of hunting knives. His work at the factory had benefitted him more than he had initially assumed, allowing him to become fairly dextrous. At the trainer's signal, he began the combat. Landon was aware that they were going at a very slow pace, but at least he was blocking most of the blows. He was even able to send a few of his own back, although they lacked strength. After a few minutes, the trainer called the combat off.

Landon became aware of slight applause. He wondered if Kira and his mother would have been proud of him now. He turned around, only to face what seemed to be the Career pack for this year.

"How can I help you?"

"Faustia Graston. District Two. I want you in our alliance."

Landon nodded. Faustia looked surprised, as if she had expected a fight. But why? This was obviously the best way to survive. It wasn't like Landon was going to trust his new allies, of course not. But being in their pack would give him so much more of a chance.

A chance was all that Landon could ask for.

He _had_ to go back.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**  
 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18); Luke Abaca (17)**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **I hope that this chapter wasn't too hard to read, and that everyone enjoyed it. Interaction between characters is amazing to write, but sometimes, it gets hard to give everyone enough time when there are 24 people to work with. Nevertheless, I think that this didn't go too badly.**

 **One more thing: I hate to pander for reviews, but...it would be great if you could review! Thanks to all of our regular reviews!**

 **QotW: Would you make an alliance in the Hunger Games?**


	18. At the End of the Tunnel

Ezrael made a wild leap to the next platform, teetering wildly. He somehow managed to keep his balance as he dodged a flying club. He made the next jump, sickened by how much space was between him and the floor. If he fell like this in the actual Games...well, it would be the end.

"Good!" a trainer praised him, swinging a padded sword that Ezrael narrowly leapt out of the way of. Sweat poured down his face, getting in his eyes. It stung, like tears, but more satisfying, since Ezrael knew that he was actually succeeding at something. Maybe he'd do this for his…

 _Wham!_ Ezrael had the wind knocked out of him by another club. His chest throbbing, he fell and hit a net.

He lay there for a few moments, staring upwards. He wished that he could see sky, but no, there was just a ceiling crosshatched with iron beams. He wondered if any Tributes had ever jumped from there, to end it all before it even began.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Ezrael weakly coughed. He pushed himself up, glancing down at his cloth bracelet. _Milah. Idan. Demix. Scorlia._ It was the list of names he ran over every waking moment, to ground him, to remind hismelf why he was fight, to keep himself moving forward.

But...maybe it would be okay if he switched to something else right now.

Yesterday, Percival had watched Zoe interact with the 10 girl and seem to not hate it. Well, that was all good and well for her, but Percival wished that some of it had rubbed off on the 10 _boy._ Percival looked back up at his rival. "Could you please move?"

Talon shrugged. "Make me."

Percival was unpleasantly reminded of his former bosses. He almost wished that he could just take his spear and stab the boy through the heart. Sadly, the weapon wasn't quite sharp enough, Percival would no doubt experience retaliation for it. _And he'd probably just rip out the spear and stab_ me _with it instead._ Percival winced as he imagined his enemies doing that in the actual Games. He had to calm down.

He had spent the first day of training working on survival skills, and now he was practicing with a weapon. There was no point in trying to build up strength or stamina, not after ten years on a baggage train. So Percival had gone for the spears. They were fairly light, and satisfyingly pointy. Percival wasn't going to pretend that he could fight off Faustia, or someone like her, but he at least felt more protected now that he had some weapon experience.

Talon, for his part, wasn't having the worst day either. The training stations were boring and unnecessary, yes, but he was having a good time harassing the other Tributes. First it had been District 3. Then the girl from 5. It was almost funny, how terrified they seemed. He hadn't even _done_ anything to them, and yet they were acting like Colby and Freya.

 _With Tributes like these, I'm not going to have any competition._ Okay, so maybe there were some people from the upper Districts that could take him down. But Talon bet that they wouldn't go down without him taking a few chunks out of them.

"So. Are you gonna make me, Six?"

Percival hated Zoe and would never have wanted to relate himself to her, but in that moment, he almost wished that he had Zoe's skill with a knife. Though Zoe would probably get all flirty. _She'll do it to anyone she thinks can help her._

Percival turned back to the matter at hand, deciding that it wasn't worth it to challenge Talon, not when Talon was over six feet and was clearly muscled and had a terror-worthy look on his face. "Enjoy the spear station." _Asshole._

He stalked off to learn how to climb a tree, all too aware of the time constraints that were closing in on him.

Talon watched him leave, turning to throw the spear. It didn't hit the middle of the target, but it sunk in pretty far. Talon clenched a fist. He knew his own strength.

Talon picked up another spear and experimentally swung it. It whooshed through the air in a satisfying way, but there wasn't any payoff to it. He moved deeper into the rows of weapons until he came to a row of clubs. He picked one up. Too light. He moved heavier, until he found a club that felt perfect in his hand.

A club was a good weapon. Messy, but efficient. And he could easily find one in any Arena. Talon swung it.

It hit a rack of swords, making a loud clanging noise. Talon wondered if anyone would have noticed through the implicit panic that came from being here.

"Poisonous."

"What?"

Florence smiled at the boy from 12. He was pale, clearly malnourished, and had a skittish look in his eyes that Florence recognized. It was too bad that she hadn't been the one to put the look there, but in the end, that just made it easier for her to break him.

Florence gestured back to the projection of fifty different grains and grasses, some edible, some not. "It's poisonous."

It was just teff grass. Perfectly harmless. But the mine rat didn't know that.

The boy looked nervously back at the screen. "It says that it's not…"

Florence smiled at him. "Sorry. I'm just trying to help you." She tried to keep the dark edge out of her voice. "I mean, since I'm from District Nine, I feel bad when the computer gets something wrong, because, like, if you accidentally eat it or something…"

The boy's face heated up. "Oh. Thanks."

"No problem! Good luck!"

Florence practically skipped off, focusing on 7 girl, who was standing alone. She was hyperfocused on the fire-starting. Florence slowly approached the girl, standing next to her. The trainer was on his break. "Fodder," Florence hissed.

Acacia jerked her head up, looking at the 9 girl. Was it worth it to say anything? ...Probably not. Acacia's motto for the last few days had been, _What would Mother do?_

Acacia's mother would have been strong. She would have intimidated everyone here. But Acacia wasn't her mother.

"You're going to die."

Acacia wasn't sure that she had actually heard it. No one would have...said that, right? "Um, did…"

"Yeah?"

The girl from 9 was grinning at her, complete kindness in her smile.

"...N-Nothing."

"Okay."

Florence grinned forward. These people were so easy to mess with.

Acacia tried to focus on her fire. She had been able to use a lighter to get a fire going, but there was no way that she could use flint and steel, and even using matches was difficult. Her mother would have been able to do this.

The 9 girl was smiling again, and Acacia remembered that everyone in this room was here for a reason. Why was she here? Was it the hatred of a parent? Or was it for some other reason? What if the 9 girl was planning Acacia's murder right now?

Acacia's hands were shaking. She abandoned the flint and steel. "I'm...I'll see you later."

 _Act like Mother. Mother is strong._

But Acacia practically fled.

Florence continued to grin.

From across the room, Kronos had been watching his District partner. He had been observing all of the Tributes, particularly the strong ones, for the last day and a half. He knew that Paris was good with knives, but bad with swords. He was reluctant to follow Faustia's orders, too. Landon and Kaede were both strong, but unskilled, and were clearly afraid of Faustia. Faustia herself was a good leader, but there was something in her stance and words that convinced Kronos that she was afraid of something.

The other thing in the works—the wild card—was what Midas was doing. He was assembling an alliance of the youngest Tributes. Kronos didn't know how well they could defend him, but then again, they were a bunch of terrified, irrational little kids. Kronos doubted than any of them suspected Midas of using them.

But—what if Midas _wasn't_ using them? What if he was genuinely—

No, that was ridiculous. Of _course_ he was being selfish. Who wasn't selfish? These Games were meant to demonstrate how selfish and inhuman they could be. No one ever said it was fair.

"You got some kind of crush on your partner, kid?"

Kronos raised an eyebrow at the girl next to him, the one from 11. Mist. She was another threat. He had seen her using a flail, and it was intimidating, to say the least. She had a tattoo on her left arm, a strange, swirling pattern, and another one snaking up her neck. A scorpion.

"Do I interest you, Mist Orchard?"

"Not really, District Nine. But I'm bored. So maybe you can entertain me."

"I'm not interested."

She laughed, putting her hand on his arm. "Of course."

She was squeezing, hard. Kronos wondered if he'd have bruises. He tried to step out of her grip, but when she wouldn't let go, he smacked her hand away. "I know that I'm _irresistable_ or whatever, but you can stop touching me."

"Someone's sensitive."

"Someone's an asshole."

"Oh, you?"

"Both of us, genius."

Kronos stalked off.

Mist looked backwards at the trainer, who looked nervous. "Got somewhere to be?"

"Um, yes! H-Here…"

"I say that you'd be better served by going somewhere else."

"But—"

"Did I _stutter_?" Mist slammed her hands on the table, getting aggressive. Well, it was better to attack a trainer than another Tribute. She honestly couldn't _wait_ until she was allowed to finally get the blood flowing from all of the people around here.

Another girl slid up next to her and picked up a pear from the table filled with edible fruits. She took a bite of it. Mist glanced sideways at her. It was the girl from 6, Zoe. Mist was aware that they were expected to be in competition. They were quite possibly the two most attractive competitors this year, and it seemed that they would both be playing the ruthless angle. Well, Mist would do it better. "You sure that's not poisonous, girly?"

The girl sighed. "All the better if it is."

"You got some sob story?"

"Don't we all?"

"Wow, you're a downer."

"Did I do something to offend you?"

"I'm going to kill you in when the gong rings."

"You can try."

The girl slid off again, still holding the pear. Mist picked up a piece of fruit herself and savagely bit into it.

The people here wouldn't know what hit them.

Ash watched the Careers, too. They had been training together. Faustia hadn't been doing a bad job at getting them into shape, Ash had to admit. Still, he was fairly convinced that he had been right not to join her. She would have murdered him on the first night.

Well, she could still kill him on the first day.

"And then what?" Ash asked Cabe.

He and Cabe had been at least interacting with each other for the last hour or so. Cabe was showing him how to build an electric light with parts of some other electronics.

"Make sure that these wires here aren't crossing—" Cabe fixed Ash's mistake "—and then try to connect it to the internal generator…"

Cabe enjoyed working with electronics, and while he had never been the best, it was nice having someone who was worse than him that he could teach. Not that that was the only reason that he liked Ash. The boy was abrasive, a bit loud, but still nice enough. It was nice to hear Ash talk to him about his own life. It took Cabe's mind off of himself.

So far, Ash had talked about his boyfriend, Robin, for a long time. The boy seemed either incredibly infatuated or actually in love, and it was kind of adorable. Cabe was sad that the two would never reunite.

"But what about you?" Ash asked. He felt bad that he had spent so much time talking about himself, but Robin was seriously amazing, and it was easy to forget about what was actually going on. "Anything important about you?"

Cabe shrugged. "Not much."

"Oh yeah?" Ash kept himself from asking why Cabe was here. While that would be interesting, Ash was afraid to know. "Well, do you have a favorite color?"

"Never really had a chance to have one."

"What? Why?"

Cabe turned red. He was getting all weird again. "It's just...there's a lot of gray in District Three. A lot of grayish colors."

"Oh. In Two, well, I guess that it's nice that there's at least just a lot of _space._ There's mountains, and all of the buildings are nice, and then the sky…"

"Blue."

"Yeah?"

"I guess my favorite color's blue. Because, when the smog clears and the sky's there...well, it's nice."

"Comforting." Ash liked brown, like trees and soil and Robin's eyes.

"Yeah. Sorry that I'm rambling."

"Blue, have you _heard_ me talk? I'm the king of rambling."

"Blue?"

"Your new nickname."

Cabe grinned down at the lightbulb, afraid that he would cry.

Luke had an above-average amount of strength due to his work in the fields, and while he had never been a climber, it turned out that his balancing ability was good as well. He guessed that holding three bales of apples and running a mile to deliver them without spilling a single one led to that kind of talent.

Currently, a trainer was having him run the gauntlet while holding a broadsword. No one was swinging clubs or swords at him, but the platforms were spinning and moving very quickly. Luke knew that he was holding the sword the wrong way, but at least he wasn't falling. _Easier than normal work,_ Luke said, starting to smile. And if he failed, there was no one to whip him.

Well, actually, he might be killed by another Tribute, but...he wasn't going to think about that now.

"Hey!" someone yelled.

Luke turned, wiping the sweat off of his face, only to be faced with this year's Career pack. _Oh, shit. What do I do?_ He gestured to himself.

The leader smiled. "Faustia Graston. District Two."

"Um, I'm Luke Abaca. District Eleven."

"You did a good job at the gauntlet."

"Oh, thanks! Um…"

She smirked. "I'll keep this short. We have an alliance going. Do you want to join?"

Luke glanced at the two lower District boys behind her. They had a look that seemed to read, _say no and you're our first target._

Luke was freaking out, but he managed to put on an adequate smile and say, "yeah, sure! I mean, if you're sure that you want me." He swallowed. He knew that he was probably their last resort.

"Great. Now, we've been running some team exercises. Do you have a weapon?"

"I know how to use a kama."

"So, a sword."

"Um…"

"Let me put it this way. How many kamas have been in the Cornucopia in the last Games?"

"Um…" Luke's eyes were wide and panicked, and he had a feeling that he was doing a very, very bad job of proving himself. He wished that Jedd were here. Actually, he hoped that Jedd never had to be here.

"Paris?"

The District 1 boy shrugged. "One, I think, in five years." His look was sympathetic, but Luke didn't want his sympathy.

Actually, sympathy was pretty amazing.

"And swords?"

"Every year," Luke answered.

"Let's get you a sword, Eleven."

As Luke walked back to the weapons stations, he realized that the unthinkable had happened. He, Luke Abaca, a laborer, despised by his District, had become a Career.

The second day of training was drawing to a close, and Robin still had no idea what she was going to do. She had trained a bit with a knife, which hadn't been too bad, and she now knew how to set snares and fires. Still, she was woefully behind in the realm of finding edible things. She could barely recognize nightlock from blueberries, and couldn't remember the steps to purify water to save her life.

She had considered trying to find an ally, but had decided against it. As helpful as an ally might have been, an ally would end up stabbing her in the back in the end. Robin had enough obvious threats to deal with. She didn't need to spend time worrying whether her friends were her enemies as well.

Robin turned back to the test on edible plants, desperately trying to remember if dandelions were edible, when two girls approached her. They were two of the ones who were around her age. One of them was far taller than Robin, with curly red hair and very pale skin. District 7. The mayor's daughter, Landon had mentioned. The other was almost offensively pretty, and stood around Robin's height. Robin remembered that she was the girl from District 1, and wondered if she should be afraid. What did they want?

The blonde girl glanced at her companion, and then turned back to Robin. "I'm Adalicia. This is Acacia. And I believe that you're Robin?"

"That's r-right." Robin hated herself for stuttering.

"You're good with a knife."

Robin flushed. "Oh. Thanks."

"Do you have an alliance?"

"N-No?"

 _What do I do? If they ask, do I say yes? I can't say_ no _! They'd kill me!_

Acacia was the next to speak, and Robin was glad to hear that her voice was just as meek as Robin's. "Midas and Jeanna—they're District Eight—have been assembling an alliance. Kind of a counter-Career thing, I guess? I don't know, but it's pretty big, and we'd love it if you would join." She was blushing, too, which Robin felt strangely comforting. She had a feeling that she and Acacia were birds of a feather. Two weak Tributes with no chance of surviving and no idea how to make friends.

"So far, it's us, District Eight, and Cabe from Three. So what do you say?"

Robin looked at the floor. "I...I don't know."

"Okay!" Adalicia wasn't sure whether to leave it and allow Robin to walk free, or to press her case. She would be safer with a bigger alliance, yes, but Adalicia was pretty sure that Midas was up to something. No one else had realized it, but then again, Adalicia really hadn't been putting much effort into acting cute and innocent, and people still seemed to believe it. In the end, she took Acacia's hand and began pulling her back to where Midas was.

"Wait!" Robin called. "I'll...I'll join. Thanks for asking."

Adalicia practically tackled her in a hug, which surprised Robin. She wasn't sure how to respond. In the end, she kind of hugged Adalicia back, although it wasn't very much of a hug. Blinking, Robin remembered that Adalicia was only thirteen years old. And that was just a year younger than Robin, yeah, but a year counted for a lot.

Well, Robin had an alliance.

She just hoped that it would be enough for her to survive. Although, who was she kidding? Robin knew that she wasn't going home.

With five minutes left on the second day of training, Khol was close to breaking.

He had been doing a good job of rationing his time. The first thing that he had done yesterday was find a weapon that he could use. It had turned out to be a knife, small, easy to use, and not too heavy. Khol had then spent his time at survival stations, carefully recording edible plants and making fires and stuff like that. He had continued to study that while in his quarters, while stuffing himself on the most calorie-loaded foods he could find. The more fat he could reserve over this week, the better. He would need it.

On the second day, he had gone back to review how to use a knife, and then worked on running the gauntlet and learning the basics of how to swim. He had then decided to work on making snares. And so far, it had been going well. Khol thought that if he could get snare-building supplies in the Arena, he might have been able to really wreak havoc.

Still, it was tough just _being_ there.

He hated his training uniform, which had 'D12F' printed on the sleeves and back. He wished that he could just scream to the entire world that he wasn't a female, he was the second D12M, and that people would actually _listen_ to him instead of laughing him off or despising him.

He hated the trainers, who all referred to him as the 'District Twelve girl' or told him how nice he'd look if he would just let his hair grow out, or who snuck him strange looks. He had thought that the Capitol, who seemed to adore all manner of strange things, would at least accept him, but no, it was like they were _trying_ to drive him insane. When the woman at the snares station called him the 'District Twelve female' while asking him to put his materials away, he burst into tears.

He stomped out of the room, pulling to the side and leaning on one of the tables where they had eaten lunch while he tried to get a grip of himself. He became aware of someone else in the room, and wished that they would just leave.

"Is everything okay?"

The voice was sharp and annoyed. Khol looked up to see the girl from 3.

"Obviously," Khol sniffed.

"Well, excuse me for trying to help."

"You aren't helping!"

White-hot anger suddenly consumed him. "I know that you think you're oh-so-accepting and so helpful and such a wonderful person for asking one damn question, but please get off of your Capitol-damned high horse and try to realize that maybe you can't fix every problem in the world! Did you ever think that maybe I _didn't want to talk_ —"

"What's your problem?!"

"My problem is that no one here will just let me be myself in the two days before I die!"

Khol was screaming by the end of the sentence, but all of the anger seemed to flow out of him. The look on the girl's face was angry, but unreadable other than that.

"Well, who are you?"

Khol swallowed, tears coursing down his face. "I'm Khol Thomas."

"And who is Khol Thomas?"

"A boy from Twelve."

"And there you have it. You're yourself."

Khol snorted. "It's not that easy! Everyone thinks that I'm a girl, and no one will listen! Except you!"

"And I know that I'm not the person that you'd like to understand all of your woes, because I'm so awful, but I think that you should take a step back and calm down for a second."

"Calm down?! We're going to die! And I'm going to die, and I'm going to die as District Twelve Female Twenty-Five—"

"Look, I suck at talking with people, so just shut up and bear with me. My family...we're not traditional District Three citizens. That's...that's why I'm here. Because they believe in gods, and you're not supposed to believe in anything but the Capitol, especially in Three. And I grew up not really knowing whether to believe in that or not." She swallowed. "But a big part of the faith that I grew up with is knowing your own identity. Knowing who you are, and then staying true to that. And okay. It sucks to be you. It's going to suck to be you for the rest of your life. But at least _you_ know who you are. And no one can take that away."

Khol stared at her. "That's...that's not very helpful."

District 3—Zara!—snorted. "Yeah, I know."

All his life, Khol had been told that he was crazy by the people around him. He'd been told that he was just going through a phase. When it became obvious that it wasn't a phase, he had become an outcast. Hated. Khol's father, too, had come from a family with a history of insanity. It was a gene that had been passed around District 12 for generations. And with that kind of family, it had been easy for Khol to assume that maybe he was just a bit crazy. _I'm not discounting the theory, either._ But still...hearing someone _validate_ him…

Nothing had ever felt better.

"Thanks," Khol mumbled.

Zara rolled her eyes. "No problem. Good luck not dying."

"Good luck not dying," Khol repeated back to her.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)**

 **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**

 **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)**

 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**

 **D5: Landon Mercer (17); Robin Wood (14)**

 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**

 **D8: Midas Redglove (17); Jeanna Rasch (14)**

 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**

 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**

 **D11: Mist Orchard (18); Luke Abaca (17)**

 **D12: Ezrael Ward (16); Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke

Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **First off, we realize that there is a difference between gender and sex, which is blurred during this chapter, but that is due to Khol's perception of the world. In addition, I hope that we didn't offend anyone, and if we did, please tell us how we can fix it. Moving on, I hope that everyone enjoyed the second training day! I think that Ash and Cabe's interaction was my favorite thing to write so far. See you next update!**

 **QotW: Favorite season?**


	19. Rate My Tribute

Paris desperately wished that he wasn't the first Tribute to go into his private session. He was supposed to be a Career, after all, but he had barely had any training. He wasn't going to be nearly as good as Faustia, and even Kaede would probably outscore him. He just hoped that his score would be adequate to keep him in the alliance. He didn't want to be seen as weak, not now.

He entered the room, going to the knives station. He picked up a set of throwing knives, and began tossing them at the target. He had good force and a fair amount of accuracy, but in the end, he got two bullseyes out of ten. The other knives were clustered around the center, which was good.

Paris then picked out a longknife, gesturing at a trainer to attack him. They complied, rushing forward with a sword. Paris blocked the blow, and sent back a strike of his own, trying to get under the trainer's defenses. The skirmish went on for a few minutes, the trainer driving Paris back with every blow. In the end, Paris called it off.

Mark had scored a 10. Paris knew he wasn't going to do that well.

He had about five minutes left, so he went to the edible plants station and took the test. Sweat was dripping down his face as he picked out answers. If he got less than a perfect score, well, it would be a disaster. But he couldn't spend too much time on any of the questions, either. With four seconds left, a 48/50 flashed on the screen. Paris nodded at the Gamemakers, and they dismissed him.

Well, it was over. But he had done such a bad job! Paris was afraid that he had thrown himself out of the running completely.

Adalicia, too, went to the knives. She knew that it might have been better to do something less expected, but she was really best at using knives. She picked up a set of throwing knives and walked down the line of human targets, hitting the first one in the head, then the chest, then the head, then the chest. For the last target, Adalicia threw two knives at the same time. They struck the hands of the target. Newly confident, Adalicia picked up another two knives and threw them at the feet. The first struck well. The other bounced off and flew into a corner.

Adalicia refused to go red and gave a small giggle, like she was six-year-old girl throwing sticks at windows. "Thanks!"

"You're dismissed."

Ash didn't waste any time, just indicating that two trainers should attack him. They did so, one of them with a padded sword, and Ash with just a small knife.

The thing was, Ash had spent a lot of time using his speed and smaller size against bigger bullies. Due to his history of Career-hating and also the fact that he and Robin were together, a few people had decided that he was a good target. Ash had learned to fight them.

So Ash sucked in his stomach and spun out of the reach of his two oponents. He used his small knife to block the blows of the sword, not wanting to get near the actual blade. He ducked between the two, letting their arms swing into each other, and caught his breath.

The one with the sword went on the offensive, and Ash didn't tense up at the blows, instead relaxing and bending backwards with every one, letting the man tire himself. At the end of ten minutes, Ash called the fight off.

The Head Gamemaker was smiling. "Thank you, Mr. Gabbro."

Ash hoped that his glare wasn't too obvious. He hated these people, the ones that judged him and decided who lived and who died. He didn't let himself say anything, knowing that if he did, he'd end up insulting everyone, and walked out.

Faustia's showing was similar to Ash's, only she took it up a level. She grabbed a broadsword and fought three different trainers at once. Faustia's muscle became obvious as the trainers were driven back by her blows, and her skill with a sword was evident. Every swing of the blades were parried by Faustia, and while the trainers were able to block most of Faustia's blows, there were a few that slipped through. It was lucky that the weapons were all blunted. By the end, Faustia was sweating, but a smile was on her face. She bowed to the Gamemakers, knowing that she had to play to their sense of being gods. "Thank you."

"Thank _you,_ Miss Graston," said the Head Gamemaker, a small smile on their face.

Faustia left with a sense of triumph.

Cabe was already sweating when he walked in. He had no idea what to do. He could use weapons, or show his survival skills, but he was shoddy with both of them. Really, electronics were his best bet. He just hoped that the Gamemakers would be impressed. _No one is going to coddle you,_ he reminded himself, feeling slightly bitter for the way that his mother had always babied him. It was hard to go from being sheltered to being, well, _here._ But what was done was done.

Cabe went over to the electronics station, carefully taking apart a few old lightbulbs (flourescent, badly made) and then trying to repair a portable space heater. No one could deny that doing this in the actual Games would be useful. He replaced a few parts, and then, noticing a relay that was unnecesary, tried to replace it with a single cord instead of the three that were in place.

That did _not_ work, and there was a small explosion. Cabe stumbled back, his eyes wondering. The Gamemakers were laughing, but Cabe _still had time,_ so he quickly worked to rectify his mistake. In the end, the space heater began to give off a small bit of heat. Cabe's grin, though, quickly fell off of his face. He nodded at the Gamemakers once, and they dismissed him.

"Good luck."

Zara looked to Khol, who had just wished her luck, for some reason. She shrugged slightly. "You too."

Cabe exited, his face slightly blackened. Afraid, Zara went in. She quickly went to the snares station and worked on tying a simple slip-knot that should leave anyone who got caught in it hanging upside down by the ankle. "And if they're like that for long enough, the blood flows to their head, and they die," Zara explained. Hopefully, her knowledge would at least get her some points. Zara didn't normally pray, but now she was praying that the Gamemakers would at least give her an average score.

But who was she kidding? The gods didn't owe her anything. Zara was the only one who could help herself. For all of her words to Khol about identity, Zara had a nasty feeling that she had no idea who she was. Maybe if Zara knew herself, this would have been easier.

"Thank you, Miss Kapoor."

"But I still have time," Zara halfheartedly protested.

" _Thank_ you, Miss Kapoor."

Hector went in and immediately went to pick up two hammers from the electronics station that matched the pendant around his neck. He knew that people from 4 were expected to be able to use spears and tridents, but Hector had always been better with the blunt force offered by hammers. His father had trained him, before deciding that Hector wasn't worth his time.

Hector sent a hammer flying, taking off the head of a practice dummy, and sent another hammer careening upwards. It hit a ceiling bar and bounced off, smashing into the middle of the gauntlet. Hector hoped that it looked like it was on purpose. He then picked up another hammer, a bigger one, meant to pack a bigger punch, and approached a trainer.

The first fight was quick. The man obviously wasn't expecting the force that Hector had behind his blows, and was quickly replaced by another woman. This woman had two knives, and she was able to block most of Hector's blows. Hector, however, could feel her shaking under the blows he sent.

In the end, it was a stalemate, but Hector was fairly confident. He gave Meri an encouraging smile as she entered the room.

Meri went straight for the spears. She threw spears at human targets, always striking in a vital region. Some of her blows didn't even have the force to kill a fish, Meri knew, but at least she had some accuracy. She considered going hand-to-hand with a trainer with her spear, but knew that she wasn't quite skilled enough to do so. Instead, she ran the gauntlet with it, keeping balanced, doing some impressive (but largely ceremonial) spinning, and eventually throwing her spear into the heart of a human target.

Landon was going after District 4, and he knew that it was important that he seriously impressed the Gamemakers. His status as a Career, as well as his potential sponsor base, depended on it. Trying to bring his nerves under control, he picked up a pair of hunting knives. He charged a human target, slicing, getting in a few fancy-looking backhand blows.

"Excuse me, Mr. Mercer?"

"Yes?"

"If you're going to show your combat skills, you should use a real opponent."

Landon went red. "Of course."

He gestured to a trainer, who charged him. They had a sword, and Landon knew immediately that he had bitten off more than he could chew. Still, Landon tried to at least dodge most of the blows. Every few moments, he was able to spot an opportunity, and while none of his blows actually reached the trainer, he was able to keep the sword from reaching him.

Robin knew that nothing she could do would impress the Gamemakers. Resigned, she headed to the edible plants station and began the test. In five minutes, she had scored a 50/50. Robin just hoped that the Gamemakers would take into account the fact that she was a girl from District 5 and had never been presented with these plants before. Her memory was above average. That had to count for something, right?

Robin swept through the other memory tests, never scoring below a 98 percent. She was proud of her performance. It proved that she could survive a night in the Arena. Still, was it enough to impress the Gamemakers?

Percival glared at the floor as he entered the large room. He hated the way that the Gamemakers were judging him, like bosses he had been with on the luggage train, and he hated the way that there was an expectation that he knew he would never reach. He picked up a spear—the Gamemakers were smiling indulgently, _damn District 4_ —and charged a human target. He knew that spears were often used for throwing. But Percival loved the way that he could use it to injure someone without getting too close to them.

He used the point of the spear to slash at the joints, and finally across the throat. Twelve years as a luggage worker came in handy, as Percival was able to keep the point of the spear fairly steady and off of the ground for an extended period of time. _Not bad, me. Not good, of course, but when have I ever been_ good _at anything?_

A Gamemaker was whispering something to one of their colleagues. Percival wondered if it was about his performance, about how bored they were, or about how someone responsible for such a large train crash should have been more talented. Percival glared up at them before being dismissed.

As soon as he had exited the room, he spat on the floor.

Zoe entered the room. She grabbed a set of throwing knives and a short sword before approaching the gauntlet. She took a moment to compose herself before stepping off.

She dodged two clubs, and then landed on a spinning circular floor, using the sword to parry the blows that a trainer sent at her. She leapt to the next platform, setting loose her first throwing knife. Then a foray across a netted segment. Then another few strikes with a sword.

The floors were speeding up, and more dummies were approaching. Zoe cast the sword to the side and withdrew her knives. She had to divide her focus between jumping from platform to platform and aiming at the dummies.

A knife loosed from her right hand. A brief stumble— _if I fall on my own knives, I will never forgive myself. Oh, wait, I'll be dead_. Zoe righted herself, sending the next knives flying.

The gauntlet came to its end. Zoe took a deep breath, looking back at the gauntlet. A few knives had missed. Other than that, though, she hadn't done too badly. Right?

Kaede entered knowing that the only Tributes he could score worse than were Faustia and Paris. Any other score would be unacceptable. He fingered the pin Stefano had given him, hoping that it would give him strength. He then picked up a large war hammer and an axe in the other hand. One weapon traditional to 7, the other not, Kaede hoped to show that he could keep to the traditional values of the Games while bringing in something new. (Though the hammer was still a better weapon, in Kaede's opinion.)

Kaede charged the human shaped dummies, slicing arms and knocking dummies over with his hammer and axe. He finished by throwing the axe at the wall, so hard that the blade sank in.

Then, he beckoned to a trainer. He went hammer on knives, using the hammer as a kind of shield from the blows, and letting the hammer catch his momentum as he swung it around. Kaede felt confident that his blows had the force that they needed. Each swing could likely have brained an unsuspecting Tribute.

Unsettled, Kaede hoped that he hadn't just thought that was a _good_ thing. Kaede had no interest in killing or torturing. But eventually, it would be necessary.

Acacia froze the moment that she went into the room. Her mind went blank as the Gamemakers stared down at her. She had never been in a room with so many people, so many people judging her, waiting for her to fail.

"Miss Mildeye, you may _begin."_

 _What do I do? What do I do?_

Acacia swallowed and forced herself to go to the knots station. She set a quick snare, and held it up for everyone to see. The minute that the Head Gamemaker nodded, Acacia dashed out of the room.

As she got into the elevator, she burst into tears.

Midas entered the room feeling fairly confident. After all, his key to winning the Games lay in his alliance. The children he had assembled were easily manipulated and completely terrified. With them defending him, it would be easy to get through at least the first sixteen. Midas's power lay within his use of words and his turn of phrase.

Midas had been planning his private session all week. He took a bow and aimed arrows at the wall in slightly higher places every time. Without letting himself think, he ran at them, using them to climb up the wall. He could feel them splintering under his weight, but he didn't let himself think. That was too dangerous.

He got to the top of the wall and threw himself backwards into the net that spanned half of the ceiling. He grabbed an arrow from the wall and crawled across the net, cutting a few cables. Every cut sent the net shaking just a bit more, and Midas just hoped that he wouldn't die. In the end, though, the cut connectors sent one corner of the net dangling to the floor. Midas climbed down it, letting himself drop the last ten feet.

He hit the floor, and felt his ankle twist. Tears of pain came to his eyes, but he forced himself to smile through them. He had experienced so much worse. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Redglove."

Jeanna got a reassuring smile from Midas as she entered the room, which she was grateful for. Still, that didn't change the fact that Jeanna felt as though she hadn't learned anything over the last few days. She went to the edible plants station, aware of the small laughs that some of the obviously inebriated Gamemakers were getting, and left.

Kronos had spent the last few days avoiding the weapons. Now, however, he knew that it was time to let some of his prowess be known. He picked up a scythe and began fighting a trainer. He held himself back from tearing the poor man apart, instead making sure that his blows were sloppy and seemed unskilled. Kronos had learned to use scythes and kamas as a child for reaping purposes, but he and Sarah had practiced fighting with them together. After Sarah had disappeared, Kronos doubled down on his work with them.

His blows were strong, but not too strong. His moves were just as fast as he could manage without giving away just how good he was. The fifteen minutes drew to an end in a stalemate, and Kronos gave the man he was fighting a small, toothy smile before leaving.

Florence wondered whether it would be better to hide her skills or to finally let them free. In the end, she knew that her danger was in her ability to trick. She went to the edible plants station, purposely going slowly and scoring a 43/50. She gave a small sniff after failing at it, hoping that the Gamemakers would be convinced by it. Then again, hopefully at least a few of them could see through her. Florence would be disappointed if they couldn't.

The real threats in the Arena were the ones who could keep their talent hidden until it was needed. Florence definitely planned on being a threat.

Talon didn't bother with any ceremony. He went straight for a club and began attacking a trainer, and though they had a sword, Talon managed to catch the sword on the handle of his club. In the end, the trainer was reduced to shielding their head as Talon dealt blow after blow.

"Mr. Prime, thank you—"

But Talon wasn't to be stopped. He pulled back from the trainer and slammed his club into the nearest station, the edible bugs one. It toppled over with a crash, something that felt immensely satisfying. All of Talon's life, people had tried to destroy him. His father. His uncle. The Capitol. Well, Talon's father had met his end, and Talon's uncle had given up on trying to straighten him up, as he referred to it. And now, Talon felt that he could finally deliver destruction onto the Capitol itself.

 _Power._ That made going into the Games worth it!

Fiori heard a crash from the room when Talon was in it, and had to wait outside with the rapidly dwindling crowd of people for another few minutes before entering. When she did, half the Gamemakers looked amused, the other half on-edge. _What did you do, Talon?_

She didn't bother to hide her glare from the Gamemakers. Though that could get her mother and Nikki hurt in the end, Fiori was willing to assume that the damned Gamemakers would just give her hell in the Arena. They wanted to break her. Well, they'd find that it was a damned lot harder than they thought it would be. She picked up a crossbow, loading it and firing it at the circular targets. She made sure to hit them a bit off-center, wanting to hide her abilities. She didn't need anyone trying to kill her in the first five minutes. If Fiori could survive the Bloodbath, if she could make shelter and find a weapon…

Well, there was no point in wishful thinking.

She slammed the crossbow back down with more fury than was necessary and left.

Her score might have been up to the Gamemakers, but Fiori knew better than to judge herself based on a simple number. She was so much _more_ than the Gamemakers wanted her to be. And she would prove it.

Fiori refused to die. She was going to go home.

Luke was nervous as he went in. He felt that he had to prove himself. He kissed the ring on his finger, hoping that somehow, Jedd could understand that Luke was thinking of him.

Then, Luke went to the weights. He took a few steps for each of them, and then threw them across the room. Luke didn't know what the standard throwing length was, but he felt that at least he hadn't been completely terrible. He ignored the plants station, knowing that District 11's Tributes always came off as the plant-knowing survivors, and went to pick up a scythe. He could see a disappointed look on some of the Gamemakers' faces, but forced himself to ignore it.

He considered fighting a trainer, but couldn't stomach the idea of hurting someone. _That's going to hurt me later on, isn't it?_ Still, he attacked a training dummy, dismembering and decapitating it before cutting it in half.

He still felt sick afterwards.

Mist shot the District 12 Tributes a threatening smile as she entered the room, purposely slamming into Luke as he exited. She went straight for the weapons and picked out a flail, a weapon that she had found she had an affinity for. She didn't waste any time with dummies, just asking two trainers to fight her.

She wondered if they thought she would be weak, and wondered if they were surprised when she immediately went on the offensive, swinging her flail, blocking blows, and sending back strong hits of her own. Her arms might not have been as impressive as some of the laborers from 11, but Mist's hands were the ones that had killed three of her former compatriots when she had the chance. The trainers were still Capitol. They were weak.

And Mist was not playing for fun.

Her spiked flail caught one of the trainers on the side of the head, and she went down. Mist stepped over her body, continuing to whale on the other man, who dropped his sword and grabbed a shield to block himself from the blows. Groaning, the first woman stood up, and attacked Mist again—

There were several screams as the woman went down with blood flowing from her head, and Mist idly wondered why that was happening when the weapons were supposed to be padded and mostly harmless. The woman wasn't moving. Perhaps she was dead.

"You can go, Miss Orchard!"

Mist giggled to herself, walking out.

An unnerved Ezrael went directly for the edible plants section, doing the test in less than three minutes and getting a 47/50. He headed to the edible grasses station next, and got a 40/50.

He grinned at the Gamemakers. "Actually, a lot of these grasses can be eaten anyway. Like quenson grass. It was modified during the war and was supposed to be poisonous, but it'll just make you sluggish for a few days if you eat it." Ezrael went on to explain the effects of the other nine plants.

You'd be surprised at what someone would eat after a week of dirty water. For once, Ezrael's near-starvation experiences might have come in handy.

When Ezrael was done, he cast a glance to the gauntlet, before deciding that doing it—and failing—would likely just hurt his score. "Thank you."

Khol finally entered the room, first heading to the knives. He glanced up at the Gamemakers at their muttering, and decided to switch directions, instead heading to the traps and snares station. He had a nasty feeling that the Gamemakers were planning just how to kill him, and forced himself to ignore it. He assembled his snare, carefully pushing strings and a single metal blade into place. He laid it on the ground, backing away, and picked up an apple from the edible plants station.

He rolled it at his trap. It approached the center, and for a moment, nothing happened.

 _Wham!_ Suddenly, the metal teeth swung down, cutting the apple clean in half. For a moment, there was silence. Khol glanced at the Gamemakers. A few of them had appreciative looks on their faces. Confident that he had their attention, Khol went over to the knife station. He picked up a pair of them and charged a practice dummy, slicing wildly. Arms and legs went flying, head went toppling off, and stuffing flew out—

Khol staggered back, wanting to vomit. The dummy had become a person, another Tribute, and it bled and bled, guts falling out, arms and legs and head with two angry eyes watching him, he had _killed_ someone, but no, it was _him_ on the floor—

"Khol Thomas!"

 _I am Khol Thomas. I am Khol Thomas._ Khol forced his breathing into control, turning to the Gamemakers. "Thank you for your time."

"You're dismissed."

* * *

Robin apprehensively watched as the training scores began to play. A sick feeling blossomed in the pit of her stomach. Robin knew that she had done badly.

The District 1 boy had only received a 6, which surprised Robin and gave her a bit of hope. After all, if a Career was getting that kind of score...Adalicia had scored a 5, and Robin wasn't sure whether to be proud of her or worried that she had gotten that score.

District 2 came on, with the boy getting an 8, which was immediately eclipsed by the girl's 10. Robin knew that it was to be expected, from District 2 and all, but it still terrified her. 3 was more comforting. Cabe had gotten a 4, and his partner had gotten a 3. That was all to be expected.

District 4 was again intimidating. The boy had scored an 8, and the girl a 7. Landon was glaring at the screen, and Robin shrunk out of his way. He was a Career now, and that terrified her. And _they_ were next. Robin wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the screen.

Landon had scored a 7, and Robin heard him breathe a sigh of relief. Then her score came on.

4.

Well, it wasn't awful. Not good, not good at all, but it could have been so much worse.

Still, Robin wanted to cry.

* * *

Kaede watched the screen. Landon had scored a 7, which meant that Kaede had to score at least an 8. District 6 was on. The boy had received another 4. The girl had gotten a 7—she was a potential threat.

Finally, his score flashed across the screen. _8._ That was good. He had made his goal. And 8 was a Career score. Kaede had finally received confirmation that he deserved to be in the Career pack. Acacia's score flashed by—she had received a pathetic 2. Cannon fodder for sure.

District 8. The boy had received a 7, and considering the fact that he was gathering an alliance, Kaede knew that he had to be taken down early. The girl had gotten another 2, and Kaede knew that he didn't need to waste time considering her any longer. District 9 came on. The boy had gotten a 6, the girl a 4. Kaede wondered if Faustia would think that the boy was a threat. He was probably just a fieldhand, Kaede knew, as District 9's Tributes so often were. Kaede doubted that there was much to worry about.

District 10, though, was more worrying. The boy had come away with an 8, and Kaede felt the beginnings of dislike. He knew better than to pay attention to that. Things would work themselves out once the Games started and Talon was picked off. The girl had only gotten a 5, which was still better than he would have expected.

Luke had received a 6, which would have been disappointing if not for Paris's score. The girl, however...she had gotten another 10.

A flicker of unease ran through Kaede. He wondered what Faustia was thinking.

* * *

Faustia was mildly worried by Mist's score. She wondered how Mist had done it. How had a District 11 girl scored the same as Faustia had? Still, Faustia knew better than to concentrate on it now. She and her mentor would talk it over after District 12.

Speaking of which…

The boy had gotten a 3. The girl—boy—whatever (these things didn't matter when they were dead) had gotten an 8.

Much too high. Much too high.

* * *

Elation shot through Khol as he saw his score. _8._ That matched some of the Careers.

"What did you do?" Ezrael asked.

Khol shrugged. "Just some traps."

"Well...nice job."

Khol didn't know how to respond to Ezrael. His District partner seemed like he would be fodder, in the end.

How did you respond to a dead man?

* * *

 **Tributes and Scores:**

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Corona, 5**

 **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10**

 **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3**

 **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7**

 **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4**

 **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2**

 **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2**

 **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4**

 **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5**

 **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10**

 **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke

Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **And the scores are here. I hope that this chapter wasn't too long (it was) and that the scores made sense. Any suggestions? Shoot us a review/PM. If you have any ideas for a better chapter title, feel free to tell us in a review/PM. I know that this one is pretty bad.**

 **QotW: Would you prefer the list of alliances at the beginning or end?**


	20. Trying on Masks

**District 8 Floor**

"So. I assume that you have a plan?"

Ned Janeway, District 8's lone Victor, didn't waste any time. Midas appreciated that. But Ned had shown himself to be altogether unaware of how to act in a social setting, and that made him weaker than Midas. Midas had been trained since he could speak about how to charm the people around him and make them trust him. Interview night was going to be the least of Midas's worries. "Of course."

Ned closed his eyes for a moment, looking tired, despite the fact that they had only started. "Not to boss you around. But if you could leave Jeanna out of it, I'd appreciate it."

Ned had to choose a Tribute, and Midas knew that he was the obvious choice. It wasn't that he had anything against Jeanna. But she had to die for him to come home. "I won't kill her. I promise that."

"Well." Ned sighed. "Moving beyond your plan, you have to charm the Capitol audience. I'm sure you know that."

"I assume you know who my father is."

"Of course I do. And I hope that that will give you a head start. So clearly, we're going for charming. Do you think that you can charm the Capitol, Midas? Do you think that you'll be able to catch whatever Uphriel throws at you and lob back a satisfactory answer?"

Uphriel Flame was the interviewer for the Games. Midas had grown up watching him, and while he was famous and was known for twisting stupider Tributes around until they contradicted themselves, Midas wasn't afraid of him. "I know that I can make the Capitol love me."

"You're sure you're not being arrogant?"

"Careful, dearest." Midas gave a half-smile. "Of course I respect your prowess, as a Victor and a mentor. But I am your Tribute. It's your job to help me, not treat me like I'm an enemy." Midas took a breath, trying to turn on his charm. "So, let me tell you what's going to happen in the Games. The Capitol loves an underdog, of course, especially a capable one that's already charmed their way into their hearts. And imagine if you were the mentor to provide that underdog!"

Ned snorted. "You must have gotten far in school."

Midas raised a shoulder and dropped it. "My father, Gregori Redglove—" he lightly emphasized the name "—is an author. I'm sure you've seen work of his, it's well-known. And being the son of an author, well...you come to realize that everything is a story. The Games is just a story, my friend. And for the story to be satisfactory, the characters have to _shine_."

 **District 3 Floor**

Zara's mentor, Coron Gere, was at least _trying_ to help her. Zara reminded herself that she couldn't let her own anger and disgust for what was happening to her manifest itself as anger towards a man who was just trying to help her. But still, Zara felt as though Coron was inadvertently insulting her, while ignoring who she actually was. Coron had said that she wasn't charming, particularly smart, very attractive, nice enough for it to be her angle, and other things that had thrown out just about every part of Zara's personality. What was even left?

"I told you," Zara snapped, before taking a deep breath to calm herself, "I'll talk about my family. My home. That's at least interesting.'

 _It better be interesting! It's what got me sent here! What's the_ point _if people don't even_ care _about it?!_

"No!" Coron said with a raised voice. "Zara, please, just _listen!_ "

"Look, there's nothing else that's going to work—I mean, while I appreciate your attempts to help, nothing has helped so far, and I think that—"

"Zara, you cannot talk about your life." Coron looked afraid. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that—that your lifestyle, your family's lifestyle, got you thrown into the Games. I do think that you're a nice person, one that should be safe at home. Okay? But—you can't discuss why you were sent here. No matter what Uphriel asks, don't do it."

"If it's because you hate me for it—" Zara pinched her arm. _No. Stay calm. It's not his fault. He knows better than I do, and if I want to survive, I have to listen. Faith can only take me so far._ Never mind that Zara's faith, the reason she was here, had never resonated all the way for her. Never mind that any of Zara's family would have been a better punishment for the Kapoors than Zara.

 _No._ That was awful. Zara was glad that it was her, and not Riya or Lemma. She couldn't wish death on anyone.

"I don't hate you, Zara," Coron insisted. "But your faith—well. District Three hates it because it's out of the ordinary, because—"

"—because there's no place for religion and gods alongside machines, I _know_ —"

"—and the Capitol will hate it because they are the gods. I know, I know," he hastily said at Zara's face. "But they perceive themselves as gods. At least, the Gamemakers and the President do. And they will be very, very angry if they know that someone is still upholding an old religion. It's not exactly legal, Zara."

"I know—"

"And they will rain hell on your family for it. Zara, please. If you care for them at all, find something else to talk about. Anything."

"Alright," Zara said. Coron looked surprised, as if he had been expecting an argument, but Zara knew that family came first. She would do what it took to protect her family from more retribution. "I guess it's back to the drawing board."

 **District 5 Floor**

"The reason that you're here could work either way for you," Carol Hathaway told him. She was a small woman with a nice smile. Landon didn't trust her. "Spreading rumors...not exactly the most interesting thing."

Landon didn't even bother to say that he hadn't spread rumors. He had a feeling that Carol could see through him. "Alright. So what do I do?"

"I don't think that you should make the rumors the main focus of your interview. Well, duh." She smiled. Landon didn't return it. "I doubt that you want to work the 'nice' angle. Maybe the 'humble' one?"

Landon shrugged. "Whatever you think will work." _I just want you to tell me what's best,_ he thought. Landon was used to doing things for himself. But he had a feeling that this time, he should leave this to the experts. Not that Carol was very good at what she was doing.

"Do you want to fly under the radar?"

"I'm a Career." Landon felt a thrill at the world. "I don't think that's going to work."

"Right, right, I forgot." _Would you please_ focus? _You're my mentor! You're supposed to be saving my life!_ Landon was normally fairly clear-headed. But Carol was getting under his skin. "So you play up the ruthless angle."

"What?!"

"Uphriel probably knows about the rumors. He's going to hound you about it. Not much you can to do change that, and you're a Career anyway, so make sure everyone knows you'll do what it takes to win. Mention your sister if you have time, to humanize you. The Capitol's looking for a winner. So give them one." Carol grinned. "I'll get your stylist to give you something flashy."

Landon shrugged again. "Whatever it takes. Just...nothing too ridiculous."

"Of course not. Attractive flashy, not something stupid." Carol swallowed. "By the way, can we discuss Robin for a second?"

Landon was silent.

"Look, she's with District Eight, from what I can tell, and they seem trustworthy enough...but I don't know, the boy gives me a weird feeling. If you can protect her…"

Landon shook his head. There was only room for one girl in his life. Well, two. Kira and his mother.

 **District 1 Floor**

Adalicia knew that her mentor Satine was used to working with older girls that filled out the 'sexy' personal pretty well. Adalicia knew that she wasn't that kind of person, nor did she have any interest in it. She also knew, just as she and Vasyklo had discussed, that she would have to play a cute little girl.

"And I'd go along with that," Satine agreed. "In a dress with ruffles, you'd be as adorable as fuck. I can see you squeeing over your friends, your family, over being in the Capitol. It's obvious."

In the months before the incident, Adalicia would have been annoyed by the way that Satine remained gruff and uncaring no matter how cute Adalicia acted. But in the past months, Adalicia had experienced enough hate not to care. Besides, something about the way that Satine told her the truth and had her rare moments of kindness made Adalicia want to trust her. Adalicia gave a small smile. "And that makes it bad?"

"Not at all. I doubt that a bunch of Capitolites are going to care if the pretty girl on stage is too _predictable._ I'm sure that the Gamemakers were planning for it ever since you were Reaped. Fuck, maybe before that, I don't know. The thing is...you got a five."

"So? Paris got a six. Faustia and Mist both got tens. Even the Twelve girl—boy?—got an eight. People are stronger than I am."

"But a five breaks the mold when it comes to the adorable girl in a pink dress who can't stop talking about her friends and beloved big brother. If nothing else, it's going to make the other Tributes distrust you."

"But what does it matter? They'll already distrust me after seeing my score. I can't change anything with them. I just have to move forward."

Satine was silent. Adalicia grinned. "Did I impress you? Please tell me that I impressed you."

"Get through interview night, kid. Then I'll give you all the compliments that you want."

"I'll blow you away."

 _I didn't make a promise,_ Adalicia reminded herself. She didn't make promises, nor did she believe them when told to her. Not since her mother had promised that everything would be okay when she and her class of children had gone onto the ice. Not since the ice had broke, killing three children and destroying Adalicia's life. Not since her mother had become a liar.

 **District 11 Floor**

"Why are we even discussing this?" Mist asked Seeder. "I told you, the interviews don't matter. Not to me. I've got my plan, and I'm going to win the Games by fighting, not by dancing around like a fucking show horse." She stretched her arms, putting them behind her head and yawning.

"It _matters,_ " said Seeder, who was rapidly getting angrier, "because when you're starving to death in the final three, I won't have the money to send you any food and you won't be able to eat your sword."

"I'm not going to starve. That's what being from Eleven is all about, isn't it?" When Mist died, it wouldn't be from something as stupid as starvation. "Besides, I've nearly starved to death before. I'm used to going on nothing. And when I'm starving to death in the final three, I'll fucking kill my competitors like I'm supposed to. Not lie around waiting to die. Don't you know who I am?"

Seeder looked like she might cry. "Oh, Mist."

Mist snorted. "Wanna play a game of 'you're not my mom'?"

"Mist, you're strong. You got a ten, the highest this year. And you're smart, too, you don't like to admit it but I can see it. And you're a survivor, because no one can grow up like you did, rebels for parents, starving on the streets, gang life, and come out on the other side _stronger_ and not be a survivor. And even that's not enough, Mist, but you can kill, you've killed before and you're not afraid to do it."

Mist wasn't surprised that Seeder knew she already had a body count. She _was_ surprised that Seeder knew about her parents. No one was supposed to know about her parents. They had been dead for years for good reason. "Point being?"

"You could win, Mist."

"I bet you don't want that, huh?"

"That doesn't matter! What matters is that I'm your mentor and I'll fight my damndest, but I can't fight for you if you won't let me!"

Mist eyed Seeder. She didn't understand how the older woman had become a Victor in the first place. "I have a plan."

"Mist—"

Mist got up from the plush chair and walked out of the room, slamming the door.

She wasn't going to dance around like a trained rabbit. She wasn't going to put on a mask and pretend to be nice or sexy or humble. She _was_ going to badmouth every Tribute up there. She knew better than to try to build herself up. But she _could_ tear everyone else down.

 **District 4 Floor**

"Who are you?"

Meri stared at Mags for a moment. What did it matter? Meri's job was to put on a mask and act like someone she wasn't, not be herself. "I'm Meri Sutherland," Meri said.

"I'm glad you know that," Mags replied. "Go deeper."

"I'm…" Meri laughed, feeling awkward and unsure of what to say. "I'm a blonde. A blonde with a braid."

"That's also true."

"And I'm a Cliffie. I'm the daughter of Delsin and the sister of Jaxon and the cousin of Cain."

"Your mother...that was Vivien Sutherland. I'm sorry."

Meri was surprised that Mags knew, and surprised that she cared. Her mother had passed away almost eight years ago from water sickness. It was so long ago, and not very many outsiders cared when a Cliffie died. "Did you...know her?"

Mags shrugged. "We spoke once or twice."

Mags must have spoken with the entire District once or twice. _She's pretty amazing._ "Okay. Yeah. I'm the daughter of Vivien Sutherland. The daughter of a dead woman, I guess, if that sounds any better." _Maybe I can get points for having a tragic backstory? Wow, I'm being awful._ "I'm the friend of many people. Including Hector Hardy. I guess you might want to know that."

"Are you two going to team up?"

"Do you advise it?"

"I want to know what you think first."

Meri shrugged. "Yes. I don't...I don't trust him—"

"—yes you do—"

"Okay, I do. And I think that...that we'll be a team."

"Alright," Mags nodded. "Go on."

"I'm...a girl from Four who's afraid of the water. I'm a girl who loves my family. And I guess that I love a lot of people. Or maybe just people, I guess? People can be pretty amazing, when you let them. And I love making people feel good about themselves." Meri looked at Mags for confirmation that she was doing the right thing.

Mags was smiling. "Go on!"

"And I love being heard. I guess sometimes I get too loud. But as long as people hear me, sometimes I think it's worth it. And I think that my dad could really change the District, but a lot of people think that he can't, which is why I'm here, I guess, and I hope that he keeps fighting. And I hope that I have the strength to keep fighting, when it comes down to it. But I guess I might not."

Mags had a grin. "Perfect. Well, at least you have some idea of who you are."

"And now you tell me who to be, right? For the interviews?"

Mags raised an eyebrow. "Hardly. I help you find a more idealized version of yourself. As of now, I say that you go simple. Humble. Sweet and kind. Enamoured with the Capitol. A loving person. The Capitol likes loving people. Pretty, but not extravagant. Not to say that you're not pretty."

"You're really pretty yourself," Meri said, and was glad to see a smile go across Mags's face.

"I think we found your angle."

 **District 2 Floor**

"This can _not_ be your angle!"

Ash glared at Sabinus, who had a red face and practically had steam coming out of his ears. Ash was in the same condition, though, so he couldn't say much.

"Gabbro, I swear to the Capitol, if you don't _listen_ to me I'll throw you out of the Training Center!"

"Well, then stop suggesting stupid things!"

"They're not _stupid!_ They're what our District has built itself on for the last twenty years! I'm trying to help you, you immovable dunce, now get the fuck off of your high horse and _listen_!"

"I don't want your help!"

"I wish you Tributes would stop saying that!" Sabinus looked like he might explode, and his voice was getting more and more shrill. "Fine, Gabbro, you think you're _better_ than me because you never trained, because I'm such an _evil-weevil Career_ and you're not! But you're not better, Gabbro, you're going to be just as bad when it gets down to it, only you don't have the training to make sure you're a winner! Listen to me, or die!"

Ash had to hold himself back from punching his mentor, that _Career_ who wanted to force Ash to be a Career as well. Ash had _morals,_ morals that didn't involve murdering little kids who didn't even stand a chance! Ash might die, yes, but at least he'd die knowing that he wasn't a fucking butcher! "I told you, I don't want your help! I don't care what the Capitol thinks of me!" There was only one person whose opinion Ash cared about, and that was Robin. "I'll just go on there and talk for three minutes, and it'll be over! It's not hard, but you seem to think that it's the equivalent of running through a maze of fire while people throw wet rags at you!"

"Gah!" Sabinus drew in several breaths. "I'm not letting you on that stage without some training, you—you—fungal infection! And that's because no matter what anyone says to you, you always find a way to make it about insult District Two and the training program, and I can't let you do that!"

"How do you plan on stopping me, you—you wet sock?!"

"I'll _sedate_ you if I need to, dammit—"

"I won't give you the chance!"

"What is going on here?!"

The other mentor for the year, Agatha, poked her head into the room. "You two are not being at all productive."

Sabinus seemed at a loss for words, wildly pointing towards Ash and opening and closing his mouth rapidly. Agatha regarded Ash, and then looked back at Sabinus and nodded. "Right. _This_ one. I understand now. Sorry to interrupt."

 **District 10 Floor**

"Any enemies yet?"

Jack had actually been a bit of a help, establishing that Fiori would play the role of a determined young woman who loved her family, and making sure that the dress Fiori would wear made her look as beautiful as possible. Fiori didn't quite like him, but she at least got the feeling that he wanted her to succeed. And spending time with him meant that she wasn't spending time with the other Tributes. Fiori didn't want to dignify Jack's irrational fears, but this year's Tributes seemed to be a bunch of psychopaths.

 _Or at least, serious threats. Maybe there's one or two weak ones, but even they might be crazy killers. Well, probably not the 5 girl, but still..._

Fiori shrugged. "Not that I know of. I don't think I antagonized anyone." It had been _so hard_ not to try and punch a Career in the face. But they hadn't approached her, and Fiori hadn't gotten the chance. _If I could have, would I have killed one of them?_ Fiori swallowed, not letting herself linger on the thought. "I think that Talon hates me, but...he hates everyone."

Jack shuddered. "Good. Don't trust any of them. They're all probably psychopaths."

"Every time you say that, it loses credibility."

"But it's true! All of them."

"Even me?" Fiori felt slightly amused. She felt bad for poking fun at Jack, but she had to have humor whenever it came to her.

Jack didn't answer. "Don't trust them. You can't trust any of them. Not the One girl, not the One boy—"

"If you list every damn Tribute, I swear to the Capitol…"

But Fiori didn't have it in her to make fun of Jack's crazy fears. She was too afraid herself. Fiori _hated_ being afraid. But the past week had been a nonstop train ride of fear. And at this point, she almost believed Jack. Every other Tribute out there was just waiting for the right moment to strike her down.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Corona, 5**

 **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10**

 **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3**

 **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7**

 **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4**

 **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2**

 **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2**

 **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4**

 **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5**

 **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10**

 **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke

Hector, Meri

Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **Executive decision to not do an interview section for every Tribute, because...I don't think that I could write that.**

 **I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter, and if you could review, please do!**

 **QotW: What would be your interview strategy?**


	21. Bark and Bite

Adalicia was finishing up, a grin on her face. She flounced off the stage, all ruffles and pastels, and though Paris didn't trust her, he could admit that she looked very innocent. Paris strolled onto the stage, wearing a suit studded with diamonds and emeralds that were supposed to bring out his eyes. His hair, normally covered by soot, was clean and stark white. He kept his face high. Diamond had told him to act regal.

Paris felt anything _but_ regal. He knew, just _knew_ that whatever he said, the Capitol would misinterpret it and hate him. No matter what he did, people seemed to hate him. His family. His District. Trying not to shudder or run offstage, Paris sat next to Uphriel.

"So, Paris Sapphire! I think that everyone here has been wondering: do you have any relation to the famous Mark Sapphire?"

Mark wasn't famous. He had placed only 5th in the 22nd Hunger Games, nothing memorable. And Mark had mentioned that he had a little brother named Paris in his interview. They all knew that Mark and he were brothers. They were all waiting for Paris to fail. "He was my older brother. You might remember that I was interviewed at the Final Eight. I would have been around fourteen."

"How interesting! Anything you want to tell us about Mark?"

"I think that you knew him pretty well."

"That's certainly true. But _your_ thoughts on him. Tell us about your relationship!"

 _My brother is dead!_ What did it matter? But Diamond had told him that he could play the tragedy card. "Mark and I…" Paris was choking on his words. "Well, we had a bit of a rough relationship. He...we would fight a lot. Violently." Paris forced a smile. "Everyone blamed it on me, most of the time." He shut his mouth, refusing to talk about how Mark had always been the child who could do no wrong in everyone's eyes. Maybe it would have been nice to reveal Mark for who he was. But Mark was dead. And the Capitol didn't deserve Paris's past. They already had his future.

"Sounds tough. I don't think that we knew this about him. Tell us about the rest of your family."

"My mother is...headstrong. She's not afraid to tell anyone what she thinks. It gets her in a bit of trouble." Enough trouble to have sent him here. Surprisingly, the audience laughed. "My father is a kind man."

"Mark said he had a muscle deficiency?"

"Yeah. Me and Mark worked instead of him. I work polishing and cutting gems. Sometimes I run them to the retailers."

"Work with any sapphires?"

"Of course." Paris knew that he should have acknowledged the joke, but he didn't have any patience for it.

"Ever steal any? Must've gotten tempting."

"No!"

Uphriel laughed. "So, Paris, you seem like a straight-laced, hard-working young man. Why _are_ you here? Visions of glory? Wanted to beat Mark?"

The only way that Paris wanted to beat Mark was by beating him up. Paris never would've been here in the first place if Mark hadn't pretended that _Paris_ was the problem child! Paris had never done anything to hurt anyone. But his family had. And somehow, that turned into punishing him.

"I didn't have any reason for coming," Paris finally said. He could feel Faustia's eyes burning into the back of his head. "But now that I'm here, I'm going to fight."

The buzzer rang. "Paris Sapphire, everyone! The District One male!"

Faustia went on after Paris. She was wearing a purple dress and dark makeup that made her look attractive, but mostly highlighted her muscle. From the beginning, she established that she was a strong Tribute and someone who should not have been messed with. She certainly did a good job of intimidating Hector. He knew that he was on the stronger end of the Tributes. Still, Faustia was strong, and he knew that she wasn't just playacting. She came off as a natural-born leader and as a person that would go to any measure to win. Ash stomped on after she left. He was much less dynamic, snapping abrupt answers to every question asked. He definitely had some problems with his parents, as he refused to even speak a word about them, just glaring at the ground. The only substantive thing that Uphriel got out of him was about his boyfriend, ironically named Robin, same as the Tribute from 5. Ash obviously had it bad for Robin. But that wouldn't help him. There was no room for lovers in the Games. Hector found Ash's mentor in the crowd. The man looked as though he wanted to die.

District 3 came much too fast, and Hector began sweating. The tight sea-blue suit felt like it was choking him. Hector moved up a place in line as Zara went onto stage. She was wearing a black dress and heels, making her look older than she was, and clearly showing how thin she was. Hector was disgusted by it. She wasn't like the Capitol people, who tried to get as thin as possible. She was small because of years of starvation, instigated by the repulsive government in place. Hector felt a small, misplaced amount of pride for her, though, as she made her answers short and acted clearly repulsed by Uphriel's serpentine tongue and scaly skin. She spent most of the time talking about her family, and then a small amount of time on her job. Uphriel was clearly getting annoyed that there were no juicy stories, though, and so when Cabe went on, Uphriel was practically interrogating him. Cabe, though he looked nice in a suit, was clearly not prepared for it, and had the telltale sheen of sweat on his forehead. In three minutes, Cabe had revealed that he was the son of one of the District's wealthiest men, and his father had been implicated for the murder of his own brother. The audience seemed torn between laughter and disgust at his story. But Hector couldn't spare a moment to feel angry that District people were sinking to the measures of the Capitol, nor to feel sorry for Cabe.

Meri was shaking like a leaf. "It's going to be okay. Mags said it's going to be okay. You'll do great. You look great."

Meri swallowed, shuddering, and forced her mouth into a smile. If she could just get it to look more natural, she really would look beautiful. She was in a flowing blue dress designed to look like water, with her hair swept into an elaborate braid that played off of her normal style.

Hector heard a snicker from the back of the line. "Don't bother lying to her, Four." It was Mist. Hector ignored her. "You'll do wonderfully, Meri."

The buzzer rang for Cabe, and Meri strode onto the stage. Hector felt proud of her as he saw the shift in her stance. She looked confident, powerful. While even Hector had to admit that she had nothing on someone like Faustia or even the angry power of Ash, she was sure to get sponsors. She was naturally an open, kind person. Hector had no doubt that if she could get over her stage fright, she could succeed.

And all in all, he thought that she did well. Uphriel ruthlessly grilled her about why she was here— _Shit, I need to figure out what to say for that_ —but she quickly answered and averted the subject, spending most of her interview talking about her family and how much she loved them, even taking time to describe the cliffs where she lived and how beautiful they were. She also spent a few moments complementing the Capitol and even discussing where Uphriel got his skin products.

Still, she was shaking as she walked off, but Hector couldn't focus on that as he walked onto the stage and the bright lights hit him. His mentor had told him to act strong and reliable, but also not to be afraid of using humor. Hector was just afraid that someone would uncover his rebel sympathies. If he slipped up, he was done for.

"Hector Hardy. Son of a Peacekeeper, if I'm right?"

Hector felt a great rush of relief. _That's a safe question. ...Right?_ He realized too late that someone would probably hate him for that fact. A _true_ rebel certainly would. "Yes. Jupiter Hardy. We're transfers from Two, in fact. Well, he is. I moved when I was three. I can't recall very much from back then."

Thankfully, the audience laughed— _they'll laugh at_ anything, _won't they_ —and Uphriel smiled. "Was it hard growing up with him? Lots of pressure?"

Hector felt sick. Of course he felt pressure! Pressure to fit in perfectly, pressure to be the best in school and in training. Capitol, his father had practically told him that if Hector didn't win the Games or become a Peacekeeper, he was worthless. Hector had often wondered whether that had driven him to become a rebel. "Of course it was hard. But my father was a good father. I wouldn't have gotten that eight if it hadn't been for him."

"And an impressive score it was. So there are no feelings of bitterness?"  
"Well, I'm here! That can't be changed, so there's no point in feeling angry." _Lie, lie, lie._

"And why _are_ you here?"

Hector shrugged. "I guess that people just thought that I was the strongest option." Hector had made it clear to his mentor Dorian that he was not going to tell anyone the real story. Luckily, Dorian hadn't pried, and Hector had ended up with a simple lie. Hector just hoped that Uphriel had no evidence of his rebellious tendencies.

"Tell us about District Four. What do you do for a living?"

"I put a lot of focus on school. I also train with my father." Hector cursed himself for the slip of the tongue that had almost led him to admitting to training for the Games. That was the number one thing not to do, beside being a rebel. "I spend a few days after school working on a trawler. When I graduate—well, _if_ I graduate—I was going to work on a trawler. Maybe a deep-sea fisher."

"If you win, you won't have to do that. What _would_ you do?"

"If I win?" Hector looked at the ceiling. "If I win, I might work anyway. To contribute, I mean!" _Certainly not to distract myself from the pain and self-disgust._ "I'd visit District Two."

"Sounds like you and Miss Graston have things to talk about. Moving on…what do you think of Mr. Sutherland?"

Hector's father had treated Delsin Sutherland as an annoyance, but a passing craze. "I hold a respect for anyone that has the courage to run for office. Still, no matter who wins, I'll be happy."

"Who's waiting for you to come home?

"My father." _Not really._ "Some friends." _Not really._

"No mother?"

Hector shook his head as the buzzer rang and the audience cheered. But Hector couldn't appreciate the applause, instead feeling sick with the knowledge that Hermes was probably hating him right now, and that he would never manage to be a player outside of the system.

Zoe thought that the little girl from 5 looked especially small as she went on after Hector. She was wearing a dress that was a darker red than Zoe's, which flared out at the waist and suggested feathers in the embroidery. There were feathers everywhere, actually, on the sleeves and around her neck, in earrings and in a necklace. But none of the elaborate costumery could hide the look of terror on Robin's face. She spent the first minute or so riding off of the high that Hector had left, but by the end of her interview, Zoe and the audience were both disappointed. It seemed that she was sent into the Games simply because no one in District 5 cared about her. _Cutting their losses,_ Zoe thought to herself. She wasn't sure if District 6 had gone with the better idea. Yes, with Zoe and Percival, they had gotten rid of two of their most hated number. But Zoe was going to make it back. For Angelica, and for herself. And when she did, the District would have to be very, very afraid.

Zoe was more interested to watch Robin's District partner, Landon. She had pegged Landon as a threat ever since observing him in training, and he had become especially dangerous when Faustia had chosen him for a Career. He didn't look particularly strong or intimidating, but Zoe knew that looks were deceiving. He looked attractive enough in a dark suit, with makeup that made his features sharper. Zoe realized within the first few questions that he must have been playing the ruthless angle, and knew that she would have to change her angle from 'ruthless and seductive' to being mostly seductive. She didn't trust herself to compete with another Tribute over which one of them got to have the ruthless role. And Landon played his part well, acting completely unafraid of telling the entire audience that he had ended up in the Capitol by spreading rumors that had destroyed the job chances of several of his coworkers. He seemed unafraid and unguilty, but Zoe thought that she could see something under his facade. He mentioned a mother and sister, and Zoe instinctively knew that he'd be fighting to get back to them.

Zoe strolled on as soon as the buzzer rang, and the crowd went wild. Zoe smiled seductively at them, giving them some small waves, and then sitting down in her chair. Her dress was bright red and deep cut. The skirt was short in the front but went much longer in the back, and was hard to distinguish from the red heels that she was wearing. Her lips were painted red, her eyelids purple. Her wrists were adorned with ruby cuff bracelets.

"Zoe Winter, looking hot, hot, hot!" Uphriel said. Zoe forced herself to smile at him, despite her disgust with his scaly skin and serpentine features. Her father had forced her to spend time with people much more repulsive than him, and he couldn't touch her. "Doesn't she look gorgeous, folks?"

The cheers from the audience were deafening. "And coming away with a score of seven! Beautiful _and_ strong, it seems!"

Zoe giggled. "Thank you! I just hope that I was good enough to impress everyone here." She gave the audience a long glance, and they cheered again.

"How _did_ you get that score?"

"Well, you know...I come from a tough life, and I'm a very fast learner."

"Well, I think we're all wondering...is there a lucky guy waiting for you at home? Or girl, we're not picky."

Nathan's face, handsome, youthful, laughing, immediately sprung to Zoe's mind. She forced the image out. She couldn't afford to be weak right now. "No, no boyfriend. There's no one that's quite... _enough_ for me." She didn't mention Angelica. Angelica was in enough danger as it was.

"So you're a family gal?"

"My family definitely is close-knit," Zoe gave forth, arranging her legs so that her skirt pulled slightly higher. "Though whether I care for them very much, I don't know. I suppose that I'd be up for joining another family, if the chance came up. But you can't be picky."

"As you might know if you follow District news," Uphriel addressed the audience, "the Winter family leads a notorious gang. It would seem that our lovely Zoe grew up with them. Is that right, Zoe?"

The lights were blinding. Zoe imagined that she was alone on the stage. "It's true. Though I think that reports of my family's power are fairly exaggerated. They're an annoyance, if anything. It's slightly disheartening." Zoe leaned forward, lightly touching Uphriel's arm. "Do you think that I'm an annoyance, Uphriel?"

The screams of the audience must have lasted ten seconds, and Uphriel laughed. "I think that you're the opposite of an annoyance, Zoe. Tell us more about yourself. Hobbies?"

Zoe shrugged. "Survival." She was deathly terrified of saying something wrong. As much as she hated her family, she didn't want them to die, or rather, she didn't want her father's accusations of her being a traitor to be proved true. And what if she ended up hurting _herself_? "And my escort introduced me to...yoga, I believe?"

"That'll save you years in stress. Which I'm sure you've had a lot of. How has the gang life affected you?"

"I've learned to fight. To stay alive."

"Your father's gang is known for being involved in many...well, almost all unsavory activities that anyone could imagine. Murder, thievery, violence, rebellion, vandalism, forced labor and prostitution, acts of terror, property destruction…"

"Kidnapping, impersonation, finance dishonesty, disturbing the peace," Zoe continued in a bored tone, trying not to cry. She just had to wait for her time to be up. Then, Uphriel would stop quesitoning her. The truth would never come out.

"You seem to know it all. It's a dangerous place for someone to grow up."

"Yes. But not dangerous to the Capitol." Zoe's own words sounded hollow in her ears. "And that's a good thing. The Capitol really is a most beautiful place."

The cheers drowned out the timer.

Kaede jealously watched as Zoe walked off. She looked amazing, he could admit. But she had been much too popular. Sighing, Kaede calmed himself down. He couldn't afford to be distracted during the interview. And he knew that he could do well. Percival paled in comparison to Zoe, there was no doubting it. None of the genialities that he exchanged with Uphriel could hold a candle to the way that Zoe had effortlessly commanded the audience. Sadly for him—happily for Kaede—when Uphriel asked him about something called the "Line 7 Incident," Percival held the audience's attention completely. And not in a good way.

Intrigued, Kaede listened to the story of how luggage dropped from the back of a cargo train had derailed a train that had used the same rail later that day, killing over a hundred people and apparently causing shut-downs in all rails in that area for over a week. Kaede was horrified by the human cost, yes, but he was his parents' child, and he was especially disgusted by what a waste Percival had caused. A worker shouldn't have been so incompetent or uncaring that they destroyed part of their District's industry. It was unheard of. Percival went completely hysterical, denying that he had been involved, but Kaede doubted that he was telling the truth. Percival seemed unhinged, and not in a helpful way.

Acacia went on after him, and Kaede knew that she wouldn't be a hard act to follow. It was a shame, really. As the daughter of Mayor Mildeye, Acacia should have been able to speak to an audience without too much trouble. Still, she was shaking with fear the whole time. She probably didn't have that much to talk about, Kaede reflected, as she had been kept inside for all of her life. Poplar and Mayor Mildeye didn't seem to be topics that she wanted to discuss. She did spend a few moments on the fact that she didn't know who her father was, which seemed to garner her a bit of sympathy.

Kaede strode on after her, injecting pride into every step as his father had taught him. The suit he was wearing, forest green, emphasized how tall and muscular he was. He was wearing makeup, which he was unused to, but the liner around his dark brown eyes made the color seem warmer than it usually did. Kaede extended his hand to Uphriel, and Uphriel shook it, and though Kaede hated that he could die tomorrow, he had to admit that he was excited to shake hands with such a prominent member of Panem society.

"Kaede Mitchell. Now, I think that we all know about Mitchell Logs and Company. They provide much of the lumber that we use here in the Capitol. And I believe that you're directly related to the family that runs it?

"I'm the son of Wayne Mitchell," Kaede told him. "I've been brought up with the knowledge that I'm going to run Mitchell Logs. I grew up working on lumber troops and eventually grew to leading them."

"Do you still think that you'll inherit someday? And if you don't, who will?"

"My younger brother, Iven, is next in line, unless my father decides to give it to a worker. But that won't be a problem. Because I'm going to return."

"Just for that?"

"Well, not only for that. My family and friends are important to me as well. But as a Mitchell, I grew up knowing that I had a responsibility to the family business and to the Capitol, and that part of that responsibility was increasing production and making sure that we were constantly setting new, higher standards for ourselves. And obviously, I can't help in that if I'm not there to help."

"Are you a laborer? Or a leader?"

"I lead a lumber troop. I'm one of the youngest leaders, although really, it's unsurprising. My troop has some of the highest quotas in our company."

"So you consider yourself a good leader."

"Absolutely. Many people have commented on it."

"How can you apply that to the Games?"

Kaede knew better than to do anything that would annoy Faustia. He may have believed that he could do a better job as a leader than her, but she was still strong and capable. He trusted her to lead. Well, not exactly, as he couldn't trust anyone, but...Kaede had been brought up with a nose for talent and business. Faustia was as efficient as they came. "I have a strong sense of self, and I can use that to keep a clear head. And I have a strong work ethic as well. I'm not afraid of hard work or of getting my hands dirty."

"You're certainly an impressive young man."

"I'm glad to hear you say so."

"Now, we did a bit of digging, and we heard many accusations of unfairness, seeming to be directed towards the way you ran your troop. Your numbers are certainly impeccable, but can you really handle the more human side of things?"

Kaede felt a jolt of annoyance, as well as of reassurance. Uphriel knew better than to go any farther. Maybe the wages at Mitchell Logs were low, but it wasn't his job to bring that up. The Capitol didn't want to hear that. Kaede was safe. But mostly…"You know how workers are. If you're not pandering to their every need, then they hate you. A few of them disliked me because they believed that I pushed too hard, that I was too callous. But it's never too far to push if you're doing good work for the Capitol. There's no need to whine about it."

"Well, you're a very organized person. Tell us about your relationship with your family."

"I respect my parents more than nearly anyone, the exceptions being our fine government." Kaede inclined his head towards the Senators and Gamemakers. "They raised me well, and I'm proud to fight for them. Iven...well, he's my younger brother. You know how it is. He's waiting for me to come home." Kaede ignored the part of himself that said that Iven wouldn't care if he died or not.

"And you really believe that you can."

"I won't accept any other answer. I'm going to fight through anything that comes up against me, and defeat it."

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Co** **rona, 5  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4**  
 **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5**  
 **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:  
** Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **Somet housekeeping: The interviews are split into two chapters because the document was something like thirteen pages long, way too much for a single chapter. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow.**

 **Thank you guys so much for 100 reviews. We love encouragement, and we love constructive criticism. Thanks for all your support!**

 **QotW: Shippers, assemble! What's a pairing that you could see?**


	22. Bark and Bite (Part 2)

Jeanna was intimidated as she watched Kaede's interview. There were so many strong Tributes this year, and Jeanna knew that there was no secret talent that she had. Nothing that would save her, in the end. Jeanna knew that she could very well be dead tomorrow. She tried to focus on the good things that were left. Everyone looked so beautiful tonight. And Jeanna loved her dress, pink and purple and grey silk blended together, and simple jewelry hanging from her throat and wrists and ears. When Kaede's buzzer went off, Jeanna went onto stage with one goal alone.

Luckily, the first question that Uphriel asked was about her family. Jeanna's smile was genuine. "I have four sisters. Paisley, Heather, Moira, and Chantille. Heather is my twin, we're identical, and she's also the best friend that anyone could ever have. Paisley is older than me, and she works so hard to try and make sure that we have enough. Moira is a few years younger than me, and she's probably the smartest person that I know. I watch her learn things and it makes me feel so hopeful about the future. Chantille is nine, and she's one of the kindest people I've ever known. But I'm pretty sure that she's laughing at all of us behind their backs."

The audience laughed good-naturedly, and Jeanna let out a breath of air that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Uphriel smiled good-naturedly. "Well, you really love your family."

"Yeah." Jeanna wasn't good at public speaking. She was afraid of people, and everyone knew it. But she looked into a camera, trying to imagine that she could see her family on the other end, and tried to speak directly to them. "Paisley, Heather, Moira, Chantille...I love you. So much." Jeanna let out a choked sob. _I'm going to die. I'm going to die tomorrow, and none of this is going to matter._ "And Dad...thank you. Thank you so much, for taking care of all of us. You're the best father that anyone could have ever wanted, and I love you. So much."

A few of the audience members seemed to be teary. Uphriel's smile was stretched all the way across his face. "Well, that's very sweet. Do you think that you'll manage to get back to your family?"

Jeanna opened and closed her mouth, unable to answer.

"Do you think that family is important?"

"Of course," Jeanna squeaked.

"What about people who have their family taken from them?"

"It's a tragedy—"

"Well, I think that a lot of us are wondering why you're here." His smile became sympathetic, and Jeanna began to panic. All of her instincts screamed at her to run off of the stage while she still had the chance.. "I think that a lot of us remember that four months ago, there was a factory shutdown due to an explosion. Why, there weren't any shipments of featherpants for weeks! And five deaths, if I believe? Not counting the people who went out of work. And as you might know if you read District Daily, that was caused by one Jeanna Rasch."

 _No._ Jeanna's blood ran cold, her breath coming in faster bursts as fear consumed her. She wanted to run, away from here, away from the Capitol, away from anything that could hurt her! She just wanted to get away!

But no. She was trapped her, on this stage, with the angry whispers coming from the audience and the disgusted looks of her fellow Tributes. She stared into Uphriel's face, her expression almost uncomprehending. Jeanna wanted her face to be in a glare that could intimidate anyone. But she wasn't intimidating, and no one cared what she thought. Heather wasn't by her side. Paisley wasn't here to yell at the bullies. Instead, it was just Jeanna. Just Jeanna, up on stage, alone to face the crimes of a girl who looked just like her.

Jeanna bit the inside of her mouth as tears started to stream down her cheeks.

"That was me," she said, and the murmurs of the crowd grew.

She'd do it again. She didn't regret anything. Because as long as Heather was safe—or as safe as you could be in Panem—than Jeanna had lived a good life. It didn't matter how many friends Jeanna had lost. It didn't matter whether she lost her life in the end. Whether she lived or died, Heather would be safe.

That didn't stop the tears from falling.

Florence had to keep herself from smiling as the little girl from 8 went off the stage crying. She was almost impressed by the body counts that some of these Tributes had. If Florence had grown up in one of the more industrial Districts, imagine what she could have done by now! Sadly, she only had two kills to her name so far. Well, that was about to change.

Midas was much better than his District partner. He spoke about his life as the son of Gregori Redglove, not letting Uphriel get the better of him, and by the end of his interview having the audience eating out of his hand. But he was hiding something, Florence knew it. She let that thought seep into her mind as she went onto stage, knowing that it would help her look more afraid. Florence just had to play the part of cannon fodder for another twelve hours. And then...well...it would all be over.

"Florence Channing. Any opening remarks?"

Florence curled her shoulders inwards, making herself smaller and hopefully more pitiful. The dress that she was wearing was unhelpful. It was off-white, yes, meant to accent her tan skin, but it also hugged her body and made her look more adult than she wanted. Nothing like Zoe, of course, but it could definitely be a problem in playacting that Florence was a naive girl. Florence shook her head slightly, and Uphriel laughed. "A woman of few words?"

Florence hoped that her laugh sounded forced. Her mentor, Rosa, had told her, after several swigs of whiskey, just to try and be memorable. Florence had the opposite goal. But if she was too quiet, she might come off as crazy. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"Well, you shouldn't be! You look lovely. Would you like to talk about your home?"

"Well, I'm from Nine." Florence stopped, acting as if she couldn't muster up any other words. Better that the Capitol thought she was unintelligent than a psychopath. "Um, I miss my family a lot. This is my token." She held up her picture of Draven and heard a few people in the audience _awww._ She wondered if a different type of Capitolian would be rooting for her if they knew the truth about what had happened between her and Draven. Still, it cemented her status as innocent, so that was good. "And I have a sister, too, Cassidy. Well, Cassie. I like to think that she misses me. But she should know that I'm going to come back to her, and then we can have a lot of fun." Florence had gone too far, she knew it, but at least now Cassie would spend the rest of the week in a panic.

"How old are they?"

"Cassie is nine. Draven would have been thirteen. But he died when we were younger. He was five."

Sympathetic sounds from the audience. It made her want to drown Draven all over again. Even while dead, he was getting the attention, not her. But Florence got over that, giving Uphriel a small smile. _Don't say anything. Don't ask anything. Or I'll murder you when I get back._

"How did it happen?"

Florence let her smile drop, letting her lips settle over her canines last, as she always did when she hated someone. "He drowned. In Nine, there's two days in the middle of summer when planting is over. We have those days off. Draven and I went to the lake together—I was nine—and…" Tears flowed down Florence's face. "And, well, I looked away for a second, and suddenly…" Florence pretended that she was unable to go on.

"That sounds like a tragedy. Our agents in Nine definitely heard about that. They also came back with another name. Jeff duVal."

Florence blinked like she was going to cry again, and forced her voice to crack. "We...well...he died a few years ago. We were friends. It's...it's been hard to make more friends—we were close, and no one was the same—" Florence dissolved into a fit of tears, and the buzzer sounded as Florence pretended to get a hold of herself.

Shivering with fear, Luke watched as Florence's District partner went on. He was the terrifying one in the pair. Every time that Luke had looked up during training, Kronos had been watching him. And he seemed almost happy to be here. Sure enough, Kronos came off as creepy and a bit sadistic during his interview, and Luke thought that he seemed intelligent as well. Luke did _not_ want to come up against him in the Games. After him was Fiori, who tried to keep the interview on her family, before spitting out one-word answers and glaring at the floor. She mumbled a few words about chickens that got some laughs. Talon's interview was no better. He obviously had no patience for the audience or Uphriel, but the audience seemed to enjoy his blatant threats towards the rest of the Tributes. And considering his high score? Luke just hoped that being in the Careers would protect him. Or at least that his death would be quick when it finally came. He twisted the ring on his finger. He wanted to go back to Jedd. But he didn't want Jedd to have to watch a long, drawn-out death. Mist continued the straight-shot of crazy. It wasn't that she _looked_ crazy. She had a pretty face and looked nice in a stark white, low-cut dress that stood out against her skin. But the long scar running down the left side of her face was a stark reminder that she was dangerous. She was quiet, but the words that did come out of her mouth just seemed unhinged.

Every word she said was discounting another Tribute. She speculated that the little girl from one was hiding something, claimed that Zoe from 6 was afraid of everything, and outright insulted most of the Careers. She called Luke weak, saying that he wasn't worth anyone's time, and that his six had been a fluke. She didn't even let Uphriel focus on her amazing ten, instead calling Faustia every name that she could think of and saying that Faustia wasn't ready to serve the Capitol. She seemed to be the most ruthless of the Tributes so far, and Luke felt bad for the people who had used ruthless as their angle. He knew about Mist's past, due to their shared District, and he knew that she must have been holding herself back. The _real_ Mist Orchard would have murdered Uphriel already. Luke wondered if he should mention that in his interview, and knew that it wasn't an option. He wasn't that kind of person.

Too quickly, Mist's interview was over, and it was Luke's turn to stumble on. He was supposed to be amiable, so he tried to smile at the audience. But he had no idea what to say. He wasn't the amiable Career, the nice guy that was also strong and capable. He only came off as nice because of the monsters that surrounded him. And what was the worth of being nice when he was weak?

"Luke Abaca. You look handsome."

His suit was dark purple, and Luke especially liked the silver stud earring that had been implanted in his ear. The ring around his finger had been polished and varnished by his prep team, and he twisted it again. "Thanks, Uphriel. You look amazing." He looked like a snake, like a poisonous snake, but that couldn't matter, not now.

"Now, I hear that you've got a guy waiting for you back home."

"Y-Yeah." Luke was surprised that the conversation had gotten here this quickly. He had been expecting Uphriel to hound him about some gossip—but then again, Luke didn't have any skeletons in the closet. And Seeder has told him that people in the Capitol were more acceptant towards homosexuality. They called it being _gay,_ of all things _._ For once in his life, who knew? Maybe Luke would be accepted.

Too bad he'd be dying soon.

"Tell us more! We love hearing about romances."

 _Which is a side effect of your obsession with us_ — _or rather, our deaths._ "His name is Jedd. And he's amazing. I met him when I was fifteen. We—well, my parents told me to get out. I was fourteen when it happened. I was kissing another guy."

The audience _laughed,_ of all things, and Luke wanted to throw up. But Uphriel motioned that he keep going, so he took a deep breath. He _hated_ spilling his entire life to these people, the ones that did nothing but take and take and keep on taking and never gave anything back.

"So yeah, they told me to get out. But I still had my job. I shared an apartment with a few other guys for a while, and a few months ago, I got a time-share apartment with another guy, David. I've seen him all of six times." The audience laughed. "But yeah, Jedd. I met him when I was fifteen. I was transferred in the fields, and I started working with him. We first kissed on his sixteenth birthday. One loaf of bread, one apartment, two of us...it was kind of…" Luke blinked, and realized that he was crying. "He's...important to me. He was going to ask me to marry him." Luke held up his hand. "I would have said yes. I _did_ say yes. I love him." Luke looked at the ground, feeling like he was going to choke. _Why am I telling everyone this?_ But something in him _needed_ the words to get heard. He needed people to understand how much he loved Jedd. He wanted Jedd to hear from him. One last time.

"Tell us about your family," Uphriel interrupted him. "It must not have been a very stable one, for them to throw you out for something so small."

"It's just District Eleven, I think," Luke said before feeling incredibly guilty. Speaking quickly, he said, "well, I have four siblings, Eddo, Connie, Dasheen, and Luma. Eddo is nineteen. We used to be close."

"How did he react when you were thrown out?"

He given Luke a black eye. "He was...upset, to say the least. I don't really talk with any of them anymore." He couldn't risk hurting Connie.

"Are you angry with them?"

 _Am I angry with them?_ Luke snorted. "How could I not be angry?" The more that Luke thought about it, the more angry he got, which was surprising. He never gotten like this before. But his parents were supposed to care for him. Love him. And they had just thrown him out.

 _No._ Luke wasn't going to get like this. He knew better than to get like this. "Never mind. It's...it's fine."

The buzzer went off. Luke walked off.

When he blinked, Jedd's face was behind his eyelids.

Khol wasn't confident that he could top Luke's act. But that almost didn't matter. Khol looked down at what he was wearing. His stylist could have given him a dress or something like that, but instead he was wearing a dark suit. And with light makeup on, he looked more masculine.

Leonis had told him that the Capitol was " _fine with gender identity and expression, so don't worry, honey,"_ but Khol didn't understand what most of that meant. He had picked up on the basic idea that he could be who he was. Even for just a night. Khol strode onto stage. There was a moment of silence. Probably the audience taking in Khol's outfit, taking in the statement that he was _done_ with being a girl. Zara had been right. Khol knew who he was. It wasn't his duty to accept hate, it was other peoples' job to accept who he was.

"Khol Thomas. District Twelve Male," Khol introduced himself.

The Capitol erupted into applause.

Uphriel tried to rein them in a few times, but in the end, the wild cheering lasted nearly a minute. Khol was dazzled by the lights, by the colors, by the wild styles, by the idea that anyone could enjoy who he was. The idea that they _loved_ him.

 _They don't love me,_ he reminded himself. _They like the idea that they've helped redeem District trash. They like that I'm going to die for their entertainment. Not me._

Finally, Uphriel began talking. "Well, we're running short on time, so let's make this fast! Khol Thomas, I'd have to say that you look very handsome. We'll all have to congratulate your stylist!" More cheers. "But now, down to business...can we assume that you were sent into the Games because of, well…" he gestured to what Khol was wearing.

Khol bit the inside of his cheek to relieve the wild emotions—anger, betrayal, elation—that were churning inside of him. Finally, he nodded. "That would be correct."

"Well, Khol, it's brave of you to be up here."

"Thank you." Khol didn't let himself look at Zara. "I've been feeling a lot better lately, actually."

"Do you consider yourself brave?"

 _Where is this going?_ "I like to think so."

"Do you think that you've found out, well, who you are?"

"Yes."

"And so, on your journey through the Capitol, you've learned to accept yourself?"

"I would say so."

Uphriel nodded, the hint of a smirk on his lips. _Oh, no._ "Well, I'd like to take everyone to a journey back to District Twelve, Khol's home. As it turns out, Khol was a bit of an outcast." The audience booed. "Now, some interviews were taken as Khol was leaving the District. Let's see them."

Shocked and unable to move or say anything, Khol watched as the screens switched from his own face, lightly made up to look more masculine, to an image of someone that he knew very well. _Laurence._

"The Thomas freak?" Laurence scoffed. "I'm glad that she's going into the Games. Someone as messed up as she is can't really help production."

The audience was silent as the face of Merrill flashed on. "I don't know what she thinks she's doing. She insists that she's a boy. But she's not. I think it's just the Thomas sickness. Her family...well, they have a history of being crazies."

A parade of the faces of people that Khol knew flashed by. "Freak." "Weirdo, that's all, but a big one." "Insane." "I feel bad for her mother."

The show finally halted. Khol had eleven seconds left.

"So, Mr. Thomas, what do you think of that?"

Khol blinked twice. He was _not_ going to cry. He had spent half of his life sobbing after being insulted or beaten up by people from 12 for who he was. But _never again._ "I got an eight," Khol said. "Don't underestimate me."

And then he stood up and stalked off of the stage.

He didn't concentrate on Ezrael's interview, just picking up on the fact that it was rather boring. When the curtain finally fell, he plodded off of the stage and towards the elevators as if in a dream.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Corona, 5  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4**  
 **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5**  
 **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10**  
 **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:  
** Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **And here's the second half of the interviews! Sorry again about making them two chapters. Favorite interviews? Favorite Tributes?**

 **QotW: Which Tribute do you identify with the most?**


	23. The Last Night

**Interview Center**

"So give a big hand for this year's Tributes!"

The audience cheered as Cabe stood up. But he couldn't take any of it in. He felt as though he was in a state of shock. He had done so badly during the interviews. And now, there was no chance to redeem himself. He just had to hope for the best tomorrow.

But Cabe wasn't the type of person who could just hope for the best. The best would honestly just be a quick death, and Cabe wasn't sure if he could have that. And did he really deserve to live at all? He had been sent in to punish his father for the death of Uncle Statica.

 _It wasn't my fault,_ Cabe reminded himself. His father didn't care about him, anyway. Would the _real_ punishment be if Cabe came home and then didn't acknowledge him? That would drive him crazy. But Cabe didn't have the courage to do something like that. And Cabe wasn't going home, anyway.

He looked at Zara next to him. She seemed to feel his gaze on her and turned, looking him in the eye. Her dark eyes were hard, but shiny, like she was going to cry. He tried to give her a comforting smile, but she didn't return it. He saw her look backwards, but didn't bother to find out why. Cabe guessed that he hoped she would survive tomorrow. But there didn't seem to be much point in hoping for someone else.

 _Mother...are you thinking about me now?_

Cabe made his way over to the elevators with the rest of the Tributes.

"Hey! Blue!"

Cabe turned, surprised, to see Ash. "Hey, Ash. You did a good job."

"You too."

Cabe snorted. He had done terribly. Uphriel had brought up Uncle Statica, and that always spelled disaster.

"My District sent me in because they hated me," Ash said.

Cabe raised an eyebrow. "Well, that doesn't make much sense. You don't seem bad."

Ash laughed humorlessly. "I spoke against Careers. I guess I was kind of an asshole, I don't know, my boyfriend always said that I was. But your District...they don't hate you. Just your dad. So I guess...I don't know. I was trying to be comforting, but I think I just failed. My point is, you're not a bad person."

"And neither are you," Cabe said, surprised at how easily the words were flowing. Why couldn't this have happened during the interview? "Just because people dislike you doesn't make you bad. It means that you're outspoken. And yes, you can be outspoken and a jerk, but the two don't automatically come together. And...well, it wasn't just Uncle Statica's death. My family is rich. Three hates that."

Ash raised his hand, and it took a moment for Cabe to realize that he was pretending to be holding a glass. "To being disliked, but not being assholes."

Cabe mirrored his movements. "To being disliked."

 **Elevator #2**

Faustia was satisfied with her interview. The audience had seemed to like her, and she had established herself as a power player. But just as importantly, she had been able to assess potential threats. And there were a lot of them. Nearly everyone seemed threatening in some way. Really, it would be easier to list the people that _wouldn't_ be dangerous. But Faustia knew that with so little time left, she had to prioritize who to watch out for and target during the first hour, and get that information to her alliance. Faustia grabbed Paris's sleeve, pulling him towards the elevators. She spotted Luke and Landon walking near each other, and Faustia called to them, and then found Kaede. They were strong. A fairly strong alliance. Faustia just hoped that it would all work out.

The five of them claimed an elevator, and Faustia hit the 12 button. Kaede snorted, and Paris shot him a look.

"Alright," Faustia said to them. "We need to prioritize. Any kills are good. But things will be much easier if we can take out some threats immediately. Especially ones that can survive in the wild."

"Mist," Landon said.

Faustia gave him a nod. "If we can take out Mist, then we might be able to take a breath. Talon as well. And District Four. Their alliance makes them dangerous."

"Ash," Kaede said.

Faustia looked at him. She knew that Ash was a threat. But she had District honor, the honor that it took not to kill someone from home. "Yes, Ash."

Faustia wondered whether maintaining the District honor that she had been taught was worth it. If she wanted to win, she was going to have to break every rule that she had. What did it matter if she started breaking them now? Faustia was playing to win. She couldn't hold back.

 _No._ Faustia knew, in her heart of hearts, that she couldn't win if she didn't do it with everything that she had been taught. She would be literally unable to, and she wouldn't be able to face herself or her District when she got back home. Someone else could kill Ash. But she wasn't going to endorse it.

They hit the 12 floor, and Faustia pressed 1 again.

"Alright," Faustia said. "So we have our main targets. There are many others, of course, but we have our main priorities. Now, listen. This is our plan."

 **Elevator #6**

Acacia was crowded onto an elevator with her entire alliance. The elevator felt cramped, which was comforting. With so many of them, surely they would make it far. Surely they'd survive.

 _But we can't all live._ Acacia shuddered at the thought. She wished that she were her mother. Her mother would be able to resign herself to the fact that all of these people had to die for her to live. Her mother would be fine with using the other as cannon fodder. Even Poplar would be able to actually find a way to use the alliance to his advantage.

Acacia shuddered again. Did she really want to be Poplar? _Of course not!_ He had tormented her for years, and she often heard the yelps of stray dogs or snarls of cats coming from his room, and saw him leaving with corpses in the morning. _But Poplar would survive._ Was it worth it to survive if it meant throwing away who she was?

 _Yes._ Acacia found that the answer was a complete _yes._ She just wanted to live!

Adalicia put an arm around Acacia's neck, and Acacia smiled at her gratefully. Robin took her hand and squeezed it before dropping it, and Acacia flashed a smile at her. She genuinely did like her alliance. Adalicia was enthusiastic and honestly adorable. Acacia wished that she had a little sister like her. Robin was just as shy as Acacia was, which was nice, and made Acacia feel like she was on even ground with someone. Jeanna was quiet and awkward, but Acacia had gotten her talking once or twice, and she was an interesting person. Cabe was smart, so much smarter than Acacia, and seemed down-to-earth. And then there was Midas. Their savior. The reason that they were going to make it far. Acacia was so grateful to have met him. He always had a plan, and seemed to know how to save them.

"Are you okay?" Adalicia asked her.

Acacia gave her a small nod, but was unable to open her mouth.

"If I don't make it—" Jeanna cut herself off. The rest of them stared at her, and Adalicia left Acacia's side and wrapped her arms around Jeanna.

"You're going to make it."

Jeanna shuddered violently, and Acacia wondered if she looked the same. She felt so weak. She and Jeanna were so weak. But perhaps...with Midas, and Adalicia, and even Cabe, perhaps they could make it through. The bell dinged, and Adalicia stepped off.

"We're all going to make it," Midas assured them as the doors closed. "Just remember the plan."

"Could we go over it once more, please?" Cabe asked, before looking back at the floor. Acacia wondered if he, too, was thinking about his family. They were both in the Games for sins of their parents. Them, and Adalicia, and even Midas. And then there was poor Robin, for whom there was no reason to be here. And then Jeanna, too...Acacia had a hard time believing that Jeanna could truly have been responsible for such an accident. But what did Acacia know?

"We go around the outskirts of the Cornucopia," Midas reminded them. "Don't go too far in. Don't grab too much, either, you can't be weighed down when you try to run away. And whichever way the tail of the Cornucopia points, that's where we'll go."

"Whichever way it points," Robin repeated, and her voice sounded dry. "Whichever way…"

She dissolved into tears. Cabe, looking green, stepped off at his floor.

Acacia moved over to Robin and patted her on the back. She wanted to believe that they were friends. And she didn't want Robin to cry. But then the doors opened on the District 5 floor, and Landon was standing there, and Robin's tears only got harder as she stepped off.

"It's going to be okay," Midas promised Acacia as the door opened on their floor. Acacia blinked twice. Her eyes were burning. But Mother always said not to cry, not in front of others, that it made her weak. Surely Acacia could save her tears for her room.

 **Elevator #4**

Percival had somehow managed to get into an elevator with Florence. She hadn't seemed particularly interesting during training, but she was eyeing him in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. Percival almost wished that he was riding with Zoe instead, as awful as she was, but she had gotten into an elevator with the 10 girl for some reason.

He heard a sound and realized that it was Florence giggling. The sound was so foreign to him. It had been years since he had laughed. And why would he have? He had been a slave, sold into labor by his family as a child and treated like a mutt for the next six years. Florence must have been either really naive or really crazy to be able to laugh at a time like this.

He realized that she was whispering something and strained to hear it. "...go to heaven," she was whispering, "seven, seven, go to heaven. Start to leaven." She giggled again, and the sound definitely sounded insane this time. "Like bread. Their souls rise. Get it?"

Percival realized that she was now staring at him. She had _wanted_ him to hear her little rhyme. Percival glared at her, wishing that he could attack her. How dare she! "It wasn't my fault!" Percival snapped. Why wouldn't anyone listen?! Percival hadn't caused the Line 7 Incident. It had been an accident that he had dropped those bags! He hadn't _meant_ to kill anyone with it!

"Did you leave the bags on the track?" Florence asked him.

Percival glared at her. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Line, line," Florence repeated, "tracks will whine. Line. Line. Borderline. Borderline murder. Except it wasn't borderline. Because you murdered them. You meant to do it, didn't you? You murdered a hundred people."

"I didn't—it wasn't—stop it!"

"Line, line, line, blood flows like wine. Seven, seven, go to heaven. But someone in this elevator is going to hell. Or maybe both of us."

Her grin was huge and unnerving and Percival wanted her to drop dead _this instant,_ but she didn't, she just kept staring at him.

"It wasn't me!" Percival screamed.

The elevator dinged for the sixth floor.

 **Elevator #1**

Ezrael felt mildly uncomfortable on the elevator with Khol and Zara. Zara hadn't gone off at the District 3 floor, instead staring blankly ahead. Ezrael avoided looking at her, as she looked angry enough to rip his face off. And he didn't want to look at Khol, either. She— _he_ looked like she was in shock. Ezrael hadn't ever talked with her—him—before. He always spent time with Isadora Keane, and Ezrael hadn't had the time or interest to talk with her—him. Ezrael felt bad for him. But he didn't really have time to feel bad for anyone but himself.

He fingered the strip of Scorlia's shirt. He wished that she were here. Well, not really. Rather, Ezrael wished that he was back at the Home. He imagined sitting next to Scorlia in the cold, damp, sooty kitchen of the home. Just the two of them. He imagined holding her hand, holding onto a small bit of warmth in the cold world.

He could never go back to that, though. He had never appreciated his stupid, awful life until he had been snatched away from him. He felt an overwhelming need to talk with someone, to make a connection with someone now, on his last night on earth.

"Are you okay?" he asked Zara.

She started as if he had slapped her, and turned to him. "Fine."

"You missed your floor."

"I know."

They hit the 12 floor. Ezrael stepped off. Khol didn't follow.

 _So it's like that._

Ezrael tried to be happy for Khol. But he couldn't. He strode over to the huge glass windows and looked out at the parties in the city. At the jubilation. At all of the carefree people.

Ezrael didn't feel terrified, or disgusted, or afraid.

He just felt overwhelmingly lonely.

 **District 10 Floor**

Talon watched as Fiori got off of the elevator. "You were with the Six girl, weren't you?"

She jumped slightly. "Oh. Talon. I didn't expect you to be up."

Talon smirked. "I couldn't sleep."

"You probably should." Fiori yawned. "I'm going to turn in."

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

"I'm going to choose not to answer."

"I think that I'm going to kill you and the Six girl first."

"You can try."

So she was fairly confident. That was bad. Talon didn't like confidence. It meant that he had less leverage. But then again, confident people were those that had the hardest falls. Like Talon's father. He had been obnoxious and arrogant. His death had been the most beautiful thing that Talon had ever watched.

He watched Fiori go to her room and stared out of the window. He had less than fifteen hours to go before he would be in the Games. But Talon was unafraid. He had a job to do. And he wasn't afraid to do it.

"You should get some sleep."

It was Jack. "No, _you_ should."

"There's a bunch of psychopaths out there, Talon! You need to—"

"I _said,_ " said Talon, "get some sleep."

"Do you want to survive?!"

"Shut up!"

Jack looked at him, and Talon knew that as afraid as Jack was of everyone in the world, Jack was now much more afraid of him than he would have been. "You're all psychopaths," Jack muttered.

"Damn right."

 **District 5 Floor**

And so Robin found herself in her room, crying again, just as she had been on the train. She had cried after seeing her score, but she hadn't cried last night, and she had thought that maybe she was getting just a bit braver.

Well, it seemed that she wasn't. Robin hugged herself, wishing that Alice was here, wishing that Alice would hug her tightly and tell her that everything was going to be okay. "It's all going to be okay," Robin tried telling herself, but her voice was meek and soft, not at all like Alice's.

Recalling the interview, Robin reflected on why she was in the Capitol. It was because Alice was the only person who had ever been there to tell her that it would be okay. Robin didn't try and pretend that she had any other friends. She was weird, she never spoke up, and she never talked with anyone. Even her own parents didn't care about what happened to her.

 _Alice, Alice, Alice,_ Robin chanted over and over in her head, trying to remind herself that there was someone who cared, someone wanted her to come back.

But if only Alice cared...then did Robin really deserve to be the one who got to go home?

 **District 9 Floor**

Kronos couldn't sleep.

He didn't know why. He wasn't some fodder Tribute like Robin or Acacia, who needed to be afraid. Kronos knew that he was strong enough to fight off most Tributes, and anyway, he didn't even _want_ to go home. He had no illusions of being the Victor. Capitol, if he got to the Final Two, he might just eat nightlock and have it over with. Kronos was going to fight for Sarah. Not for anyone else.

He rolled over in his bed, thinking harder about Sarah than he ever had before. They had become friends because they were both too angry and outcasted to be friends with anyone else. But surprisingly, they got along. Kronos didn't mind Sarah's volatile nature and the way that she insulted everyone, including him. And she put up with his bitter rants about his family and his life.

She had disappeared two years ago. Everyone knew that the Peacekeepers had finally gotten fed up with her words and actions against them. No one was surprised. You didn't mess with the Capitol if you wanted to live.

Kronos could mess with the Capitol if he wanted. He didn't care whether he lived or died. And he didn't care about anyone back home, either. The Peacekeepers could kill his father and his dog. Kronos wouldn't feel regret. In a way, Kronos's semi-suicidal ideation was the biggest advantage that he had. He didn't have to be afraid of doing something wrong. And if the Capitol tried to torture him...well, bring it on. Kronos was a masochist as well as a sadist.

He snorted, staring at the ceiling, idly wondering if Talon's room was directly above his. He wondered what all of the other Tributes were thinking at this moment. His thoughts went back to Sarah. She would have attacked the Careers. Kronos wondered if he should do that as well.

She would have put on a better show than Kronos ever could have. But Kronos was going to put on a show in her honor tomorrow. He wondered if he'd see Sarah in whatever afterlife there was.

And then he rolled over once more and finally fell into a turbulent sleep.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Corona, 5  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10  
** **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3  
** **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7  
** **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4  
** **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7  
** **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2  
** **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4  
** **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5  
** **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10  
** **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna  
Zoe, Fiori  
Zara, Khol

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **I know, I know, another pre-Games chapter. Don't worry, next Friday, we'll be in the Games. I honestly can't wait! There will also be two bonus chapters this week, one on Monday and one on Thursday. I hope that everyone enjoyed the chapter, see you next update!**

 **QoTW: If you could take one Tribute out of here, who would it be?**


	24. On the Edge

"Places!"

The Capitol Control Center was a flurry bright colors. The Gamemakers were all there, makeup carefully on, hairs huge and curled, outfits metallic and shimmering. The consoles were primed up and ready to go. The building was in lockdown mode, TVs ready to start Mandatory Broadcast. The Gamemakers themselves were in a state of complete chaos.

"I told you that we should have focused more on the Cornucopia plain, it's so drab…"

"Shut up, Milla, the Cornucopia's fine—"

"Anyway, we're easing them into it until we can _break them completely_ —"

"Aldous, if you start maniacally laughing again, I'll—"

"Places! Places!"

"Are the mutts in place already?"

"Are you insulting the way that I do my job?"

"Of course not, but last year—"

"Stop arguing, they'll be locked into place in five minutes—"

"This isn't good enough—"

"What if the President—"

"Places!"

The last shout from Head Gamemaker Black, amplified by the microphones placed all around the room, sent the Control Center into a ringing silence. There were thirty Gamemakers in total, who all stared up at their boss with wide, excited eyes, and not a small amount of fear. The Head Gamemaker's assistant, Raina Martin, had her clipboard in hand and was no doubt writing down the names of any of those who didn't appear to have the proper reverence for the Games.

Sagittarius Black gave a small smile. It wouldn't be long until the Tributes were in place and the blood was flowing. They just had to wait a bit longer. It had been a long few months, preparing for the Games, but the cast of Tributes this year was excellent and would no doubt provide the Capitol with the blood that they wanted to see. There were so many personalities and memories to manipulate. There were a few people especially that Sagittarius couldn't wait to break.

The screens in the Control Center began to flicker to life. They showed shots of the 24 Tributes walking down the hallways to the Launch Center. Some were shaking. Some were crying. Some were—

"Wait," Sagittarius said sharply. He motioned to Raina, who put her pencil to paper. "Look at District Nine Female. She's smiling."

"Everyone seems to agree that she killed that boy—"

"That she killed her brother—"

"Murderer—"

"Psychopath—"

"An interesting—"

"Silence!" Sagittarius roared. "Yes, yes, I know that we had a general idea of those things. But now we have confirmation. And that means that we can _use it._ I sincerely hope that she doesn't die on the first day." He sighed deeply. There were too many Tributes that he personally liked this year, too many that he wanted to work with for a bit longer. They had designed the opening plain to allow for as many survivors as possible this year, and he could try to minimize damage, of course, but in the end, he would just have to see what survivors he had when night fell and the first twist swept through the Arena. He located Athena Lilac, one of the environmental workers, and gave her a small nod. Her idea had been a good one.

"Districts One and Five ready to launch!"

"District Ten reporting ready!"

"The Eight girl is crying, her stylist wants to know what he can say to her—"

"It's not his job to coddle the girl, don't force him to—"

"District Four's mentors are at their stations—"

"Put up the list of sponsorable items!"

"Done!"

"Districts Two, Three, Eleven, Twelve are in!"

"All Districts reporting! Two minutes and counting!"

"Raina?" Sagittarius said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring me a cup of coffee." Sagittarius knew that his assistant was brilliant and could not be allowed to come close to his position in any way. "I have a feeling that the first day is going to be tiring."

No doubt Raina was annoyed with him, but she knew her duty. "Yes, sir."

"One minute!"

The Games were about to begin.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Corona, 5  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10  
** **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3  
** **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7  
** **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4  
** **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7  
** **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2  
** **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4  
** **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5  
** **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10  
** **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna  
Zara, Khol  
Zoe, Fiori

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **I realize that this might not have been what everyone expected, but I had fun writing it. Thanks for indulging me. See you on Thursday!**


	25. Sixty Seconds

Jeanna's parka and boots didn't protect her from the icy bite that started pricking at her as soon as she emerged from the ground. District 8 could get fairly cold in the winter, but oftentimes, the warm air was trapped between all the buildings. It wasn't exactly _clean,_ true, but at least it wasn't freezing like this was. Sun was glinting off of snow everywhere, blinding Jeanna, and she could tell that this would be hell if she managed to survive the Bloodbath. She stared forward, her vision adjusting to the bright light and gleaming snow everywhere. The tip of the Cornucopia was pointing directly towards her. She had to flee this way. But the black bags scattered in the area around the Cornucopia could have been filled with anything, and making the run would be dangerous and difficult. Jeanna's heart began racing as bile rose in her throat.

 _55...54…_

Talon was used to freezing weather due to his life on the plains of District 10, but his nose was starting to run. He hated the feeling of it, and knew that his face must be turning red. He snarled in anger as he saw that he was near the back of the Cornucopia, but looking to either side, he saw Jeanna and Zara. Easy pickings. He could easily kill one of them and escape. They were both shaking. Pathetic.

 _51...50…_

Zara knew that she needed to put her token in the pocket of her parka, but she couldn't bring herself to. Even though the gods of her family had gotten her into this mess, she sent prayers out to them. She just hoped that they could hear her over the whirring machinery and false godhood of the Gamemakers and over the wishes and prayers of every other Tribute here. She looked at Khol, wondering if he would remember their deal, and hoping that he would.

 _47...46…_

Luke's plate was surrounded by white stuff. _Snow. Snow!_ He had never seen snow before, and he was almost tempted to act like a child and lean down to touch it. But it was loaded with mines. And how would he survive? He would be cast out into the winter, with no way to survive—but no. He was a Career. But his ticket to survival would be to become a murderer. Luke imagined Jedd, watching at his apartment. _I love you. Don't leave me._

 _43...42…_

Ash hoped that the cold would sharpen his senses and that the snow wouldn't inhibit his escape. At least it was a clear day. No flurries of snow would cut off his vision or movement. And his outfit, skintight leggings with boots over them and at least three layers on top, would keep him warm. He looked around himself. Forest surrounded them, with some plains to the north, and a frozen river in the distance. He needed water. But was it worth it not to have the cover of trees?

 _40...39..._

Landon was shivering violently, the air biting at his exposed face. To his right was Ash, a threat, and to his left was Percival, who was obviously unhinged. Landon looked for his allies. Luke was two down, Kaede was hovering at the edge of his field of vision, and Faustia and Paris were hidden by the Cornucopia. Landon knew that he would have to flounder through snow to make it to weapons. Could he make it without getting killed by someone else? Landon found himself looking for Robin and stopped himself. He allowed himself a last thought of Kira before steeling himself for what was to come.

 _36...35..._

Percival didn't know whether his violent shivers came from the steely cold or the knowledge that despite his innocence, he was in the Games. Red blood would soon coat the wintry paradise before him. Percival spat at the ground, making a small divot in the snow, and pulled his gloves higher. He needed to escape. But he also needed supplies. But with Landon on one side and Kronos on the other, how could he get them?

 _33...32…_

Kronos knew that the weather would give him a leg up. He just wished that he could start moving, to get his blood flowing. He worried that his face would freeze off in these first few minutes. He assessed his surroundings. To his left was a plain, familiar and dangerous. To his back and right were woods, dark and inviting and probably just as bad a choice as the plains. Which way to go? Kronos didn't know what to do.

 _30...29…_

Adalicia had to keep herself from throwing up. The winter wonderland before her would no doubt be nightmarish within an hour, and it reminded her of the day that her life had shattered completely, the day that her mother had led those children out onto the ice. She forced herself to focus on the frosted Cornucopia. Jeanna was at the back of it. They would flee in that direction. Robin was on her other side, shivering violently, and Cabe was within sight. They would make it through this. They _had_ to.

 _28...27…_

Robin retched, wondering if her vomit would freeze before it hit the ground. Luckily, nothing came up, and she didn't explode with the mines at her feet. The air was completely still, and Robin irrationally wished for a wind. It was too quiet, too stagnant, too placid. It unnerved her. She wished that someone would move, someone would scream, just that someone would _do_ something!

 _25...24…_

"Rabbits run through the violent winter, knifes make the wood of the door splinter, rocks on the surface of the water skitter, rabbits run through the crying winter…"

Someone was _singing._ Their voice was high, comforting, terrifying. Fiori gazed wildly around, completely unnerved, wondering if this was a trick. The voice was amplified once, twice, three times, until it went silent again. Fiori tried to push it out of her mind, finally finding Zoe just out of sight. Zoe made eye contact with her, and they both nodded. Fiori checked her boots again, making sure that they were laced correctly, and got ready to run.

 _22...21…_

Meri was maybe six down from him. Hector gave her a smile that was probably more of a grimace. His face felt numb already, and the thin leggings didn't give him enough cover. They'd all freeze to death at this rate! The music was nightmarish, and Hector desperately hoped that he was still asleep. He cast another glance at the inside of the Cornucopia. There was a double-edged spear, just waiting. But could he get to it?

 _19...18…_

Cabe had more distance to run than his allies, but he was still fairly confident that he could be ignored. He wondered if he could tunnel through the snow. How deep was it? Then he stopped himself. He was being like Father said he was, acting like a child and letting stupid ideas get the best of him. Cabe had to be smart. He had to run for all that he was worth and hope that no one would kill him.

 _17...16…_

Kaede could spot an axe and a sword well within his field of running. And he was fairly well-versed at running through snow due to his work in 7 in the lumberfields. _Kaede Mitchell, reporting for duty,_ he thought to himself. He gave a nod to Faustia and to Landon. He located Mist. He was ready to go. He was ready to be back in control of his own life.

 _15...14…_

Khol located Zara. He didn't think that she would be a very valuable ally, but the knowledge that there was someone watching his back, someone who _cared_ whether he made it out of the Bloodbath, was incredibly comforting. The creepy song finally faded away, and he wondered what the purpose of it had been. He shook off of all of his doubts. He had a plan. He had an ally. Yes, he might die, but he would die with purpose, trying to get to someone else, with the knowledge of who he was. And really, wasn't that all that anyone could ask for?

 _13...12..._

Mist was located in a great position to get into the Cornucopia, grab a mace, and get back out. But she knew that she would be targeted by those damned _Careers._ And Faustia was right next to her! Mist glared all around her, letting her anger keep the freezing air from getting to her. She just had to stay calm and hungry and ready to kill. A little bit of cold never hurt anyone.

 _11...10…_

The winter was annoying, but Faustia had a feeling that the snow would still be light and easy to run through. The Gamemakers wouldn't want to mess up the flow of the first day. She rubbed her hands together, trying to get her blood flowing for when the gong went off. The cold wouldn't stop her. Nothing could.

 _9...8…_

Meri could focus, not on anything but how _cold_ it was. _Stop it!_ She screamed at herself. She had to be ready to get to Hector, who stood across the circle from her. She needed to get a backpack and hope that he got into the Cornucopia. They had to escape! But where to? She didn't have a plan! Maybe Hector did, but maybe not, and what if he died? What if _she_ died? Meri trembled on her plate.

 _7...6…_

The winter honestly wasn't awful, not compared to some nights back in 12, and Ezrael was fairly calm. He was going to run in and get a pack. Then he was going to go into the woods. From there, he could get to higher ground and make sure that he didn't freeze to death in the night. It was an odd setup for the first day...something was wrong.

 _5…_

Zoe could see Fiori, and she just hoped that she hadn't made a horrible mistake by agreeing to help the girl out in the Bloodbath. They had pledged to watch each other's backs for the first hour, and Zoe admitted that it was a better idea than going in alone. Still, she had a feeling that being near the center of the circle at all was a bad idea. Zoe's outfit felt flimsy and useless. She never thought that she'd say it, but she wished that she was home.

 _4…_

Paris knew that he was at a disadvantage due to his past. He shivered in the cold, trying to get himself ready for the death that was going to come. He had to prove that he was strong. And he had to survive. He could imagine Mark, laughing at him from another place. _You're weak. You'll never survive._ But Paris would be strong. He would make it through. And Mark would never hurt him again.

 _3…_

Acacia relaxed into the winter, refusing to clench her muscles to keep the cold out. It was easier that way. Shivering took up too much energy, and she had to be ready to run. She wasn't going to bother to get a backpack, instead going to just run away as fast as possible. Maybe she wouldn't be benefitting the alliance, but at least she wouldn't be dying, either. Midas was two plates down from her, and he nodded at her. But Florence was between the two of them, and Paris was on her other side. A sob tore its way through Acacia.

 _2…_

Florence hadn't expected her song to be amplified, and she silently thanked the Gamemakers for it. It was never to early to play the game. And Florence planned on being the winner here. That was the root of it, wasn't it? People acted like she was the loser. She lost to Draven, to Cassie, even to Jeff. And that was unacceptable. Florence won against them, and she was ready to win against _everyone else._

 _1…_

The last moment before the Games started seemed to drag out for Midas. He had located most of his alliance. He had formulated a plan. He was confident that he could make it out of here. He was focused, ready. But somehow, his mind was drawn away from that. It went to the sky, of all places. It almost reflected the snow on the ground, the sun unreachable. It was beautiful, peaceful, like the placid surface of a pond. The world was silent, beautiful, sewn together and sealed up tight.

 _How quickly the world can fall apart._

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games begin!"

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire, 6; Adalicia Corona, 5**

 **D2: Ash Gabbro, 8; Faustia Graston, 10**

 **D3: Cabe Corda, 4; Zara Kapoor, 3**

 **D4: Hector Hardy, 8; Meri Sutherland, 7**

 **D5: Landon Mercer, 7; Robin Wood, 4**

 **D6: Percival Pisani, 4; Zoe Winter, 7**

 **D7: Kaede Mitchell, 8; Acacia Mildeye, 2**

 **D8: Midas Redglove, 7; Jeanna Rasch, 2**

 **D9: Kronos Malakai, 6; Florence Channing, 4**

 **D10: Talon Prime, 8; Fiori Hart, 5**

 **D11: Luke Abaca, 6; Mist Orchard, 10**

 **D12: Ezrael Ward, 3; Khol Thomas, 8**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke

Hector, Meri

Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Robin, Acacia, Jeanna

Khol, Zara

Zoe, Fiori

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **I know, I know. The bonus chapters were basically just interludes. But it would have been unfair if these had been weekly chapters of their own, and I personally can't wait until the Games. I'll see you all tomorrow!**


	26. Crimson and White

Jeanna dashed into the center of the circle towards a small black back. The snow wasn't too deep, maybe an inch or so, and it was as powdery as cotton and didn't get in the way of her running. Jeanna reached down and grabbed the familiar scratchy fabric of the backpack, when suddenly—

 _I_ — _no! What_ — _I don't_ —

Her throat was suddenly so cold and when she inhaled she choked— _what is_ — _Paisley! Dad! Please!_

There was someone with their hands around her throat. Jeanna tried to inhale, but her wind was completely blocked. Jeanna had played breath-holding games before, friendly ones with Heather where they tried to see who could do it longest, but she had always had the option of quitting. But now, as her lungs screamed for air and as Jeanna desperately tried to get some oxygen, it was impossible. Jeanna flailed around as she panicked, but now her assailant was holding her off the ground, and her vision was starting to get fuzzy and dark. She had to escape! But as much as she uselessly opened and closed her mouth, no air got through.

 _Heather! Where_ are _you?! I NEED YOU!_

Many people seemed to have fled the circle of danger, but Midas had gotten in and snatched two packs. He found Acacia through the chaos and moved towards her. She reached out and grabbed his hand, and Midas pulled her out of the circle. The minute they stepped beyond the circle of plates, the snow got deep. Midas sunk into it up to his knees. He had never been in snow before, and it was wet and freezing. He could feel his pants getting soaked, but he refused to shiver. _Survive and adapt. Survive and adapt._ He and Acacia kept slogging through the snow. He heard shouts and screams, and he could see shapes moving in the woods as Tributes ran like rabbits.

"Cabe—Adalicia—Jeanna—Robin—"

"Shut up!"

Midas moved as fast as he could, all too aware of the danger that they were in for as long as they were out in the open. They were moving towards the woods fairly quicky, and the snow seemed to be getting shallower.

"Trees."

"What?!"

"Get in the trees!"

Midas and Acacia made it to the edge of the forest and Acacia grabbed the nearest branch, hoisting herself up. She might not have gone outside very much, but everyone in 7 had been taught how to climb trees as children. She was unsteady on her feet, but her fear of falling was overshadowed by her fear of being shot in the back with an arrow or a spear. She and Midas began to climb, and Acacia cast a panicked look towards the Cornucopia.

They were maybe fifty yards away from it. Not far enough, not far enough! But they couldn't run! And they needed the rest of their alliance!

Jeanna was there, Acacia could see Jeanna—but—she was on the ground! Acacia retched slightly.

 _Dead._ The dead were already starting to appear.

Landon hadn't expected it to be _easy_ to kill. But he had expected to be able to handle the fear and chaos of the opening few minutes. However, he wasn't handling it very well. People were sprinting in all directions, and though he had gotten a vest full of throwing knives, he couldn't focus on any one thing. He spotted Robin running through the crowd, Faustia chasing someone with a sword, Kaede spinning around with an axe. Landon closed his eyes, surprised when a tear trickled down his face, and opened them again, trying to focus. He had to survive! He zeroed in on the boy from Three, throwing one of his knives. But his hand was shaking, and it only hit Cabe in the hand. Cabe screamed, dropping a pack that he was holding, and Landon got ready to throw another knife.

But his hands were shaking too much. Landon screamed in frustration and let the knife go, but it whistled past Cabe as the boy ran away. But relieved, Landon watched as it cut through Khol's leggings and into his leg. Landon backed up against the Cornucopia, knowing that he couldn't trust his back not to be guarded.

Meri dashed in to grab a pack, her heart pounding. A low moan came out of her throat as she realized the truth of her situation. She could die! And where was Hector?! She wildly spun in the powdery snow, trying to find him in the roiling mass of people. "Hector!" she screamed. "Hector!"

The inside of the Cornucopia was dark and lined with weapons, but there were crates of food as well. Hector just hoped that the packs had food as he grabbed two spears and a bag of knives. He pushed past Mist, his heart in his throat, and sprinted out to join Meri. They clasped hands and helped each other get away from the Cornucopia.

The powdery snow wasn't too inhibiting. Fiori watched Zoe's back as Zoe dashed towards the center of the Cornucopia, scooping up two bags as she did so. She located Faustia and Paris, and then Landon, running in the same direction as Zoe.

"On your left!"

Zoe disappeared into the Cornucopia as Fiori slung another pack onto her back. Kronos was getting dangerously close, and Fiori began circling the Cornucopia, hovering towards the edges and hoping that no one would notice her. Adalicia dashed past her arm but ignored her, and Florence eyed her before disappearing into the woods. There were maybe twelve Tributes left in the circle.

Zoe emerged from the Cornucopia, holding several knives, a spear, and a pack. "Sprint!" Fiori screamed at her, beginning to run herself. But even before she saw him, she could feel someone running after the pair of them.

Kaede. He was holding a double-bladed axe, but Fiori's scream died in her throat. She pulled Zoe out of the way, and Zoe pressed a knife into her hand. Fiori dragged Zoe towards the edge of the circle when the first knife flashed past her.

A vague stinging feeling informed Fiori that the knife had cut her face. It was Landon. Zoe cursed, running faster, a hand on Fiori's arm. "Throw!" Fiori flung her knife back towards Kaede. It sank into his lower leg, and he tripped, falling into the snow. Suddenly, Fiori slammed into the freezing snow. Zoe had tackled her! Fiori kneed Zoe in the stomach. "Idiot!" Zoe snapped as a knife zoomed over their heads.

"Sorry." Fiori pulled Zoe forward, and the two of them stumbled upwards and to the woods, zigzagging through the snow until they hit the woods. They had escaped!

Faustia had gotten her hands on a gleaming bronze sword, but it seemed that most Tributes had fled the Cornucopia already. She caught sight of Landon and Kaede chasing someone, and saw Paris locked in combat with Kronos. She hoped that he would live, but couldn't focus on him now. She was keenly aware of the movement around her, and while it was dizzying, it would keep her alive. Faustia zeroed in on Ezrael. He was picking up a small knife buried in the snow. He turned just as she brought her sword down, missing death by an inch. He wildly struck out with his knife.

That was his mistake. He should have run while he still had the chance. Faustia easily blocked his blow, twisting her sword so that the knife flew away from them. She plunged her sword into his throat and dragged it back out. Blood spurted, and Faustia stepped out of the way as he collapsed to the ground, blood streaming over the snow. The snow was melting, now, and Faustia felt bile rise in her throat. She turned away, taking a brief moment of disorientation through the chaos, as stupid as it was.

She had killed before. But criminals. Two of them, a murderer and a thief who had been arrested nineteen times before trying to rob the mayor's daughter. She had been justified in killing them. Supposed to.

But Ezrael...what had _he_ done?

Faustia almost missed the next blow.

Paris had briefly gone sword on scythe with Kronos, who was far too skilled for Paris's comfort. But Luke had joined them, and Kronos had fled. For a brief moment, Paris struggled not to bring his sword down on Luke's head. Everyone had to die eventually! But no, they were allies, and Paris forced himself into control.

"Look." Luke pointed to somewhere over Paris's head, and he turned to see Faustia going sword on mace with Mist. They seemed almost evenly matched, Faustia's skill almost not being enough against Mist's brute force. The ring was clearing. Snow crunched under their feet as they ran to aid Faustia. Neither Luke or Paris trusted themselves to throw Luke's knife without hitting Faustia.

"Get away from her!" Paris shouted, ducking under Mist's sword and kicking her in the shins. She snarled at him, stumbling backwards and bringing down her mace, which was blocked by Faustia's sword. "Get back!" she shouted at him, and he scuttled backwards as Luke started to fight beside Faustia, two on one, driving her back with every step. The snow was cold. Paris lay there for a moment.

Meanwhile, Robin was trying to get away from the Cornucopia. Her height had become an issue as she floundered in the snow outside of the circle of Tribute plate. She could barely feel her feet anymore. She imagined Alice standing in the woods, and slogged through the snow, breaking the new path. The ground began to rise, and the snow got shallower, and Robin gratefully climbed through it, fingering her feather.

But with the next step, Robin fell forward. The snow had suddenly deepened, and Robin floundered. She couldn't find the ground! Every movement of her feet just met with more snow. Her face and hands stung, and she was shivering hard. She tried to push herself up, but it was no use! The cold was overwhelming. It was as if Robin was drowning.

She turned, trying to get back, and was met with the sight of Kaede standing ten feet from her, on his own feet. He raised his axe as Robin tried to get up and fell again. "Please!" Robin begged. "Don't!"

She screamed as he threw the axe.

* * *

The Bloodbath had lasted nineteen minutes and thirty-three seconds. Faustia crunched through the snow to the opening of the Cornucopia. "Guard my back."

Paris watched as she entered and dragged her sword along the walls. "No one in here," Faustia confirmed, coming back out as three cannons went off.

The five of them stood in silence for a moment, and Luke wondered if he should run. He would be the first to be killed if they turned on each other! Faustia definitely looked ready to murder any one of them, but after a few deep breaths, she was in control.

"Three." Faustia inhaled. " _Three._ We got three." She suddenly let out a yell, but as soon as she had started she was done. Luke stood still, afraid of saying something wrong and sealing his death warrant.

"We injured more than three," Landon pointed out, worried that his words would be the death of him. "I landed hits on both of District Three and managed to give Talon a bit of a scrape." He felt a brief thrill of pride at that. "Not fatal. But still."

"We gave Kronos a pretty bad wound on his arm," Paris volunteered.

"Alright, then. And this winter'll kill more of them by the time that the night is through. Luke, Landon, Paris, you stay here and guard the Cornucopia. Kaede, c'mon. We're hunting."

Kaede started. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go hunting. The first kill, the kill of the little girl from 5, had been a nightmare. He wanted to throw up every time that he looked over towards the deep snow where her body lay. He purposefully looked away from it, towards the dark woods where so many Tributes had fled. "The footsteps should make it easy to track them."

"Yeah. Grab some matches. Let's go."

* * *

"We made it out." Zara let out a short laugh, fingering her banalinga. "We made it out."

Khol nodded. "We made it out." As good as it was to be alive, he couldn't help but wish that more than three people had died in the Bloodbath. Things had just gotten that much harder. And both he and Zara had fled the Bloodbath with just a small black backpack, Zara with a bleeding wound in her leg. She claimed that it wasn't bad, but...it looked awful. Breaking the snow was hard work, too. Khol had been through enough winters in 12 to know that deep snow was a nightmare. To break a path, you had to punch down the snow with every step. The first few steps might have been bearable, fun even, but after a while, it was nightmarish, tedious work. Khol was exhausted, not to mention freezing. All of the Tributes had been equipped with thermal underwear, but it wasn't enough. Khol couldn't imagine the night. And the path that they left behind themselves was far too obvious, not to mention that anyone taking their path could easily follow them with far more ease than Khol and Zara had taken to break it. Khol wished that the two of them could climb a tree, but Zara didn't know how.

"We have to find a place to make camp for the night."

"There was a river."

They were hiking in the general direction of the river that they had both seen. However, the river had flown through the open area, and they had no confirmation that it even went through the woods. They could drink snowmelt if they had to. It was nice to have a place to go, Khol supposed, but he'd rather have the safety of a camp in a tree.

Something snapped behind them, and Khol wearily turned, his fists raised. He was used to small animals creating false alarms.

But no, something was there, something big. "Show yourself!" Khol shouted.

 _No, don't!_ Zara thought to herself. If someone was following them, she didn't want them to come out of the shadows!

Florence stepped out of the woods. She had a knife and a backpack. Zara's heart began pounding once again, but Florence was the first to break. "Please don't kill me!"

"What?" Zara snapped. Hadn't Florence seemed intimidating just this morning? But now she looked completely pathetic. And what right did she have to beg not to be killed? Zara and Khol had an alliance. That was the only reason that they were sticking together. Why should they give Florence that benefit?

"Please," Florence was babbling. "I can help you! Really! I made snowshoes from green wood. I can teach you how! And I have supplies! Please, just let me stay with you!"

"You must think that we're crazy," Khol said flatly.

"No! I just—I'm scared—I don't—I don't know what to do! Please, just let me stay!"

She had a knife. They had nothing. Even two on one, Florence had a good chance of killing them as long as she had the weapon. And Khol wanted to get his hands on that knife. He grabbed Zara's shoulder, turning her away from Florence. "We need that knife."

"We can't just add someone else, Khol." But Zara wasn't sure. The Bloodbath had been awful. Three dead already. Zara had seen Jeanna choked to death. Zara couldn't stand the idea of hurting someone right now. She didn't trust anyone here, but she almost wanted to, she almost wanted to believe that she could be safe with other people. And anyway, couldn't she and Khol protect themselves and each other against the pathetic Florence? Zara couldn't leave Khol, anyway.

"Give me twelve hours."

Zara gave Florence a small nod. _I'll be watching you, Nine. Don't get too comfortable._

* * *

Midas looked at what he had left. Adalicia, Cabe, and Acacia. They weren't much. But they could definitely serve as distractions or even as human shields if it really came down to it. He felt a brief twinge of regret at the fact that Robin and Jeanna had died. They were undeniably kind people, but none of that mattered in the Games. All that Midas could do now was work on surviving.

The anthem switched on, and Midas watched as Robin, Jeanna, and Ezrael's faces went across the sky. He arranged his face into something acceptably sad, and wiped at his eyes as if he was starting to cry. Acacia _was_ crying, and Adalicia and Cabe both looked to be in shock.

"It's going to be okay," Midas said. As the oldest and their leader, he had to keep them from breaking apart completely. Not to mention that it would look good with the audience. "I promise, we'll be safe from here. We've got each other."

None of the children objected to his blatant lie.

* * *

The anthem switched off, and Meri looked at Hector. He had gotten his hands on a tent, and they had set up at the edge of a snowy clearing. It was warm in the tent, at least, as embarrassing as it was to be in such close proximity with Hector. She closed her eyes, wishing that images of the day wouldn't haunt her so.

Hector just felt deeply tired as he reflected on the deaths of the day. Part of him was annoyed that such weak Tributes had been wiped out when a death of someone high-scoring would have been so useful. But all of him was disgusted with that thought and disgusted with the Games in general. They didn't deserve that kind of death. They all deserved to have a life where they could be safe and happy.

Did Hector deserve that kind of life? When a better world was impossible, when the stakes were so high, who _did_ deserve to live?

 _I'm sorry,_ Hector thought to the three Tributes who had died. _I wish you well. I hope that you're happy in...whatever comes after._

* * *

The Careers had really been useless at the Bloodbath, though Mist was willing to blame that on the snow. It had been hard to move and many people had decided just to run away to start with. Mist hadn't even gotten any kills! And the Careers had taken over the Cornucopia plain. Still, as night fell—something felt _off_ —Mist followed Faustia and Landon as the two of them trekked through the woods. Luckily, the night wasn't as cold as Mist had expected it to be.

The snow made stalking the two Careers very difficult. It crunched and made wet noises. Mist bent down to touch it. It definitely felt _wetter_ than it had this morning. Mist wished that she knew more about snow.

Faustia and Kaede had found a trail. Mist watched them do it, wondering if she should strike now. _Wait._ Mist grabbed a tree branch and hoisted herself up into it as a shadow shifted in the woods.

Suddenly, a wolf leapt from the trees. Faustia and Kaede threw themselves in opposite directions, and Mist climbed higher. They were attacking the wolf now, but it was doing a good job of snapping back at them and being aggressive. All it had to do was kill one of them, and Mist could kill the other...but no, Kaede buried his axe in the wolf's hind leg, and Faustia cut through its throat with her sword. The head tore off under its own weight, blood pouring out and staining the snow. Kaede retched, and Mist almost laughed at him. She felt drops of water on her head and looked up.

The night was still young, but the snow on the tops of the trees was gone. Mist looked back down. Surely the snow hadn't been this shallow earlier. Faustia and Kaede, too, seemed to realize that something was wrong. Mist climbed down a branch and saw that underneath the blood of the wolf, there was soil.

Faustia said something, and then the two Careers had turned back.

Mist slid down the tree and picked up a handful of snow. It burned her hand with the cold. But the night was warm. Mist crushed the snow together. It compacted easily and then melted in her hand, leaving her with nothing but cold water and a wet sleeve.

Another drop of water. Mist looked up.

It was raining.

But—but—it had been winter just this morning! The Gamemakers couldn't have made it easier to kill during the Bloodbath?! Why were they making it temperate _now?!_ And more importantly, what other changes would be coming their way?

* * *

The rain made Fiori confused, unsure about what to do. Zoe, too, looked confused. "Winter isn't supposed to be like this, right?"

"You tell me."

"But you—oh." Zoe grimaced at Fiori's implied pun, and Fiori shrugged apologetically.

"It rains in March sometimes. When spring's coming."

"That's what I thought. But why—oh."

"It can't be…" Fiori looked around. The snow was definitely lighter. Wetter. It was _melting._ "But—why would they have made it winter this morning?"

"Dragging it out." Zoe let out a humorless laugh. "They must not want us to die. Yet. Remember the Fourth?"

"Of course." The Fourth Hunger Games had essentially been a series of duels, where the Tributes were placed very far from all but one of their competitors. It had been the third most expensive Arena to date due to sheer size. "But they can't possibly want that."

"Why not? I'd say that we're all fairly interesting."

Fiori snorted. "I guess." It was the end of the first day, and they had made a first-day alliance. Fiori knew that the time for allies was over. "Well, I hope...that you...don't die?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "There's nothing that you can wish me that's going to be genuine."

The snow was really melting now. Fiori fell sick. "Well, goodbye."

They turned in opposite directions and wordlessly broke apart.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)  
** **D3: Cabe Corda (15); Zara Kapoor (15)  
** **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)  
** **D5: Landon Mercer (17)  
** **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)  
** **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)  
** **D8: Midas Redglove (17)  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)  
** **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)  
** **D11: Mist Orchard (18); Luke Abaca (17)  
** **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Acacia  
Zara, Khol, Florence

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Jeanna: She was born to die. Still, I enjoyed writing her. RIP, Jeanna. I hope that your family gets by without you.**

 **Ezrael: His story was heartbreaking because the only reason that he was in the Games was that he was an orphan, and really, in the end he was just a lonely kid. Still, he had a family with the other orphans, and I'm sad that he won't be returning to them. RIP, Ezrael. I hope that you enjoy the afterlife. Thanks to** _ **elvie_duck.**_

 **Robin: Again, she just got the short end of the stick in life. I loved writing her relationship with Alice, and while she wasn't the strongest Tribute, she definitely stood out to me because of how innocent she was. I'm sad to see her go. RIP, Robin. Thanks so much,** _ **I believe in nargles too.**_

* * *

 ** **Authors' Notes:****

 **I know, I know, the Bloodbath was tiny. Bear with me. Things are going to get very bloody from here.**

 **(By the way, congratulations to Golden Moon Huntress, who guessed that all three of the deaths would happen**

 **QotW: Who do you think is shaping up to be the biggest threat?**


	27. The Menagerie

Khol and Zara had switched off on watch all night. Khol wasn't totally sure that Florence had actually gone to sleep. Unfortunately, she had slept while hugging her pack, where her knife was. Khol didn't want Florence in his alliance. But they needed a weapon. And he'd do what it took to get it.

All through the night, the weather had been getting warmer, as if spring had come overnight. By morning, the air was dry and the sky was clear, and Khol thought that it felt like summer.

"Seasons," he said to Zara as she woke up.

Zara wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her family taught that the seasons had been created by the gods. What gave the Gamemakers the right to act like gods? But that became the least of their problems as the temperature kept climbing. By the time that the sun was halfway to the top of the sky, Zara was sweating hard.

"We need to find water," she told Khol and Florence.

"There was a river that way," Florence pointed out, motioning to the south. "And a lake, too, in the clear section of the Arena."

"So let's go."

The woods were much friendlier when it wasn't winter, and the trees provided some much-needed shade. Still, when Zara caught glimpses of woodland creatures that she had briefly seen during training, she couldn't help but be afraid of them. They were probably all mutts, designed to kill when they least expected it.

* * *

Acacia laughed. "It's beautiful today."

"Don't trust it," Cabe mumbled. Almost aggressively, he pulled his jacket closer to his shoulders. The other three people had taken off their winter coats and Adalicia had even taken off her long-sleeve shirt, just wearing a t-shirt, but Cabe refused to do so. Who knew when the weather would switch again?

Adalicia privately agreed with Cabe, but she couldn't let anyone see that. "I don't know. I think that we should just be happy that things are so nice without worrying about tomorrow. But Acacia, aren't you from Seven? Doesn't this just remind you of home?" All of the coniferous trees made Adalicia think about what she had learned of the lumber district in her textbooks.

Acacia shrugged. "Mother didn't let me go outside much. But when I did...it was like this. Only, a lot more industrial. You were never alone. Always in troops of people. Like Kaede and where he worked."

"Do you know a lot about Kaede?" Midas asked. He tried not to look too eager, but it was hard.

"Not very much," Acacia said. "Mother knew a lot about his family, because they were so important to production. They ran their business well. Poplar says...well, everyone knows it, really—they say that he's not a good boss. That he's cruel."

"It makes him a good Career," Cabe pointed out.

"What about you?" Midas asked Adalicia. He knew that he might be going too far, but it would be worth it to learn about what made his enemies tick. "How much do you know about Paris?"

"He's from the Shard. That's the industrial part of District One, where they cut the raw jewels and have all the factories. And his father can barely walk. That's all that I know, I'm sorry."

Midas grinned at her, tugging on the edge of her braid. "That's okay, Adalicia. It's good to know anything at all."

"Should we know more about each other, then?"

 _There's no way that she's really that innocent,_ Midas thought to himself. He wasn't going to fall for whatever trick Adalicia was putting up. But something snapped in the woods, and Midas quickly drew out the knife that Cabe had gotten during the Bloodbath.

"Anyone there?" Cabe asked after a few moments.

"I don't—"

Something leapt at them from out of the woods. Acacia screamed, using her backpack to bat it out of the air. It smacked into a tree, before bouncing to the ground and then getting back up.

"Chipmunk," Cabe said after a moment, fear clear in his voice.

The chipmunk bared its needle-sharp teeth at them.

"Demon chipmunk!"

It leapt at Acacia again, and she held up her backpack to guard her throat. She wildly batted at it. _Why am I not better at this?! Why can't I be stronger?!_ Midas stepped in, grabbing her arm and holding her still. The chipmunk flung itself at her again, and Midas cut it in half as it flew through the air.

The chipmunk practically exploded, blood going everywhere. Cabe retched, and Adalicia looked green. Midas, however, looked almost calm, and Acacia thanked whatever gods there were that she was with someone that knew what they were doing.

"Let's keep moving," Midas finally said. He had thought himself ready to kill. But he was unsettled after the death of the small animal. He couldn't forget that everything here was out to kill him. "Come on. Let's get away from here."

* * *

Kronos had gotten his scythe, and he experimentally hacked at the undergrowth as he trecked in the general direction of the river. Maybe a fifth of the Arena seemed to be an open clearing, stretching as far as anyone could see, and Kronos wondered if he shouldn't abandon the woods and go to the more familiar place. If only there was more cover.

Still, Kronos had his weapon, and with his weapon, he felt undefeatable. He knew that it was a stupid feeling to have. He was in a precarious position. But at the same time, he didn't care about dying, and he didn't care who he killed. That made him untouchable.

The trees in this part of the woods were far apart, and the forest floor was fairly clear as well. Kronos bent down and touched the soil. It was dry. By all rights, it should have been wet from the snow and rain from the first day. Kronos knew that dehydration was going to be a big problem. Kronos wondered how much the Arena was going to be changing. Would it snow again by tomorrow night? If that was the case, then couldn't Kronos wait for that instead of finding the river? Then again, the river would probably be a focal point for Tributes. Kronos had knowledge of how to create traps from his experience catching rats and small game in 9. He could catch something significantly larger with the lake.

Kronos swung his backpack off and opened it, pulling out a small roll of twine. _I can do so much with this._

It was time to catch something big.

* * *

Hector and Meri had found a place at the edge of the woods, and were setting up traps around it. The lake and the river leading to it was in clear sight, and Hector couldn't stop himself from imagining going swimming. But that was an idiotic idea, even Hector could recognize that, and he forced himself to continue building traps. They were going to make wild runs to the river to get water when they needed it, and hope that their traps could catch them food to eat.

"That's the last one."

Hector laughed. "It's never the last one."

"Okay, well, it's the last one in our super-special ultra-amazing circle of defense."

"Now we can start the third circle!"

"Fourth, actually," Meri laughed.

"You two are bad at defense."

Meri yelped and Hector jerked around. Standing on the outside of their second circle was Talon. He had a sword and two knives. Hector drew his spear.

"Unfriendly," Talon muttered, before leaping over their circles of defense.

Hector immediately went on the offensive, thrusting with the spear, trying to get under Talon's circle of defense. But Talon led him in a circle, deflecting every attack with his sword. He made a swing at the spear and nearly cut him in half.

Meri attacked Talon from the behind. She rammed her own spear at him, but he lifted his arm, and it went under. Meri forced herself to trip so that she wouldn't hit Hector. _Useless. I'm useless!_ She pushed herself off of the ground, making another stab at Talon. _Just hitting fish. Just hitting fish._

Hector stabbed at his right side, and Talon parried it with his sword. But while Talon was occupied, Meri thrust her spear at his left side.

She nearly hit him. But at the last second, she shifted her hand so that the spear entered his shoulder, not his side. Meri screamed louder than Talon did at the motion. She had stabbed someone. She had _stabbed_ someone.

Talon practically roared. It was supposed to be _easy_ to take the 4 assholes out! It had been easy to hurt his siblings, and it had been easy to watch his father die! But Talon knew when to cut his losses. He grabbed the spear, ripping it out of his shoulder, and pushing back on it so that Meri stumbled backwards. He kicked her in the kneecap, and she howled in pain, collapsing to the ground. Unfortunately, she didn't back into one of her own traps (the irony would have been _delicious_ ) but she was out of commission.

Talon made another leap, over the circles of traps. He almost cleared them. Almost. But his heel broke through a wire. Talon instinctively ducked, but the log that swung down still clipped the top of his head. Talon rolled forward, incoherent with pain. The world was out of focus, and he was seeing two of everything. He tried to stand, but fell, dry heaving as he did so.

It was the thought of his siblings that made him stand again. They were watching now, probably laughing or grinning as they saw him so close to death.

Talon was _not_ going to die. Not here, not now.

He took a wild guess at which iteration of Hector was the real one and threw one of his knives. He was rewarded by a yell and a spout of red. Talon forced himself up and dragged himself into the undergrowth.

* * *

Percival had found his way to the river, but he didn't have any iodine. He glared at the sky, but nothing came down. Corin, the lone mentor for 6, probably thought that Zoe deserved most of his attention. But he was _wrong._ Percival would prove him wrong!

Well, not if he couldn't even drink the water. Percival contemplated the water before him once more. Was it worth it to drink it? It might not even hurt him. Or if it did, it would be a long time before he died. Then again, it would be longer to die of dehydration. Which would Percival rather waste away from, poisoning or dehydration?

 _Choose your death,_ Percival wryly thought to himself. Life was all about making bad choices and being forced to pick between all of the bad options. Was Percival supposed to tell the station manager about the bags dropped onto the tracks and get beaten for it, or pretend that it never happened and hope that nothing came of it? _If I'm going to be proactive, I might as well start now._ He cupped the cold water in his hands and brought it to his lips.

* * *

"It's definitely colder."

"I think you're imagining things."

Khol shook his head. "It _is_ colder. Can't you feel it?"

Zara glared at the ground. "It's still as hot as—as—I don't know."

A day hadn't been long enough for them to find the river that ran through the forest, so they had taken the chance to go to the lake in the clearing. All three of them were feeling fatigued from not having any water all day, and they had been sweating a lot due to the summer weather.

"If this is summer, then autumn is next," Florence pointed out. "That wouldn't be so bad, right?"

"And after autumn is winter," Khol said. "I don't want to deal with that again."

"It's not about what you _want,"_ Zara pointed out. "You just have to deal with whatever comes—"

She stopped short. They had reached the river, and they hadn't had to leave the forest! The area was still wooded enough for cover, but a clear river was flowing fast through it. _Fast-moving,_ Khol remembered, before dipping his hand in the water. _And cold_ —

But then something moved under the surface.

Khol jerked back. _Just a fish._ That was good. They'd have a food supply—

Then he saw something odd. From the north, flowing down the river, was a mass of silver. He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was just Zara, and he allowed her to pull him back. "Do you—"

"Are those fish?" Florence asked.

"Mutts," Zara spat. "Couldn't even have one calm day, could we?"

"Let's get away from here."

"But we need water—"

The silver mass had reached them, and Zara could see that it _was_ just hundreds of fish. Silver and long, their bodies blended together under the water, but all of the eyes that Zara could see told her that there were individual fish. _Freak of nature,_ she thought to herself. Her parents were probably horrified by this. They were disgusted by the new mutts that the Capitol came up with, every damn year.

"We'll come back later."

But the mass was passing them by. Florence bit her lip, and Zara had to admire how she went down to the edge of the water, obviously afraid, but braving through it. Khol followed her for a moment before pulling back, clearly scared. Florence dipped her empty bottle into the water—

And then the silvery mass leapt out of the water. Zara _did_ scream now. The school of fish had solidified into a horrifying silvery humanoid shape, covered with eyes everywhere. Without eyelids, they all stared at the group of three, and then a huge silvery maw split open in what Zara could only assume was the creature's head. The way that it didn't come away evenly made it look like the creature's head was tearing open— _it can't leave the river! Right?_ —and then the huge mass took a step.

"Run!" Khol grabbed her hand, and neither of them bothered to look at Florence, and they began running, but with a single step, the _thing_ was upon them—

Zara and Khol split apart, running in opposite directions. They had a contingency plan. But then Florence was there too. "We can fight it!"

Florence wasn't an idiot. She knew that she couldn't beat that thing, not with a knife. (Nor did she want to, the mass of fish was kind of beautiful in all of its metallic insanity.) But she had a feeling that if the monster had something to focus on, some kind of sacrifice, that it would let them go free. She couldn't outrun it.

She ran over to join Zara, and as she had hoped, the monster's eyes followed her. She grabbed Zara's hand, and Zara, the idiot, made as if to drag her into the woods. But Florence finally exerted some of her strength.

Zara felt Florence try and throw her back towards the monster, and she glared at the bigger girl. "What are you _doing?!"_

Florence grinned at her, and a pit formed in Zara's stomach. "Thanks, kid."

And with that, Florence heaved, and Zara tripped out from under the tree they were standing under and landed at the monster's feet.

"Run, if you can!" Florence screamed at Khol, and then began to laugh, as the monster picked up Zara.

Florence ran.

Khol looked at Zara and tightly gripped the knife he had snatched from Florence's backpack when she had gone down to the river. He could do...something, right?! He couldn't just let Zara die! But the more logical part of him knew that he had to leave. He couldn't help Zara now.

He heard her scream something and realized that she was telling him to run.

So he ran. Like a coward, he ran.

The disgusting monster had its hand wrapped around her, and Zara closed her eyes. She hoped that the end would be quick. But then she felt a cold shock and realized that they had gone back into the water. She opened her eyes, and though it stung, she could see the surface. She wildly kicked, trying to reach it—

But it was pointless. The monster was so much stronger than she was, and it dragged her to the bottom like a sack of rocks. Zara closed her eyes one last time, thinking of her family. She hoped that their gods would accept her into the next lives.

The last image on her eyelids was of her family.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18); Luke Abaca (17)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede, Luke  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Acacia

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Zara: I definitely did not develop her to her full extent. Her form, for example, said that she was always grappling with her beliefs, and I didn't work with that enough. Still, I think that Zara was a pretty original character. I enjoyed writing her and her relationship with Khol, and I'm said to see her gone. RIP, Zara. Thanks to** _ **inthepalepinkcoat.**_

* * *

 ** **Authors' Notes:****

 **I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter. Thoughts? Suggestions? Thanks for reading!  
QotW: On a scale of 1 to 10, how much angst can you deal with in a Tribute? **


	28. Queen of the Night

The night was certainly beautiful. Cabe had never really experienced autumn before. But now, the air had a comforting snap to it that made Cabe feel especially warm in his jacket. He had never been really subject to any kind of cold before, but he decided that he actually enjoyed this kind of weather. Despite the fact that he had only eaten several crackers and a strip of beef jerky today, he felt surprisingly alert due to the bite of the air.

The anthem came on. Cabe wasn't prepared to see Zara's angry face flash across the sky. He let out a small gasp as he saw it.

Midas noticed, and patted him on the back. Cabe didn't know how to respond. He had always assumed that she would outlive him. He hadn't particularly liked her, but still, she was his District partner. He had shared rooms with her for over a week. They had argued. Now she was gone forever.

"How do you think it happened?"

It was Acacia. Cabe was surprised that she had asked such a question. He shrugged. "I don't really want to think about it."

"Yeah." It wasn't _that_ cold out, but Acacia was curled up into herself, holding her knees to her chest. "Yeah."

Cabe found a camera watching them from a tree and sent it a glance. It felt good to be able to express his _I'm-going-to-die, this-alliance-is-a-bad-idea_ emotions to some outlet, even if it was just whoever happened to be watching him at the moment.

"Tomorrow we'll catch some food," Midas said, jerking Cabe out of his reverie. "Everything will feel better when we have food." Their hunting expeditions today hadn't gotten them anything; they had probably been too loud. "I'll take first watch. You guys get some sleep."

* * *

Ash watched as the alliance of four began to go to sleep, and wondered if he should sneak in and kill them. He couldn't stomach the thought. They were mostly children, and Ash couldn't even think of killing Midas. He turned back. The night had just been too nice to stay still, and Ash had felt the need to move. Now, though, he saw that it was really just time to find a tree and stay there for the night. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Robin by his side. Robin would probably love woods like these. Their home had been pretty industrial for 2, and Robin had often spoke of joining a quarrying team on the frontier. Ash wondered if he still would. He hoped that whatever happened, Robin wouldn't forget him.

The few days of training at climbing things paid off as Ash jumped and caught the lowest branch of a pine tree. He used the branch for leverage, inching his legs up the tree until he could hook them around the branch and turn himself over. His hands might have been bleeding from the rough bark, but Ash decided not to focus on it. Instead, his thoughts went to Cabe. He was pretty sure that Cabe had been a member of the alliance he had just seen, and he was glad that Cabe wouldn't be dying any time soon, not with protection like that. He briefly wondered what Faustia was doing. The thought made him see red. That damned Career was probably hunting kids like Cabe right now! She could act as high and mighty as she wanted, talking about _survival,_ but the fact was that when you were a butcher, it wasn't a game of life and death anymore. It was about killing as many people and gaining as much prestige as you could. Ash wasn't necessarily against living another day. But he wouldn't kill someone else if that was what it took!

Well, would he? _No!_ Ash fiercely thought to himself. No matter what, he wouldn't be like a Career!

As he climbed higher and higher up the tree, the locket that had belonged to his mother bounced on his chest. Ash fingered the chain, pulling it away from his throat. Maybe he'd rips some bark off the tree and put it in the locket. It would be just as sentimentally valuable as the locket itself, wouldn't it? What was the point of having memorabilia from a mother that had never wanted you?

 _I'm getting too deep into this. Focus, Ash! If I die from falling out of a tree, I'll never forgive myself._

* * *

 _I'm never going to forgive myself._

 _Never. Never, never ever._

Khol looked up at the sky, torn apart by his grief. He had just...left her. He had just left Zara to die! He was just a coward, as simple as that. A coward and an idiot. Florence never would have hurt Zara if he hadn't wanted her night. Everyone in 12 was right. Khol was crazy. A coward. A freak. He didn't deserve to be alive.

And now he was just being selfish! Spinning this to be about him! Zara had _died!_ She had a family! Friends! Something to prove! And she was never coming back! Khol yelled, taking Florence's knife and throwing it into the woods.

The instant he did it, he knew that it was a mistake. He chased after it, only to see someone else bent over it. The knife suddenly seemed so stupid. A simple piece of metal and wood, but something that he was willing to fight over, something that Zara had died over, something that could kill him in the end. Would it even matter if it killed him? Death couldn't possibly be the end. Zara had mentioned once that in her family's religion, there were two choices: the afterlife or rebirth. If you were good enough, you got to move on to some form of utopia. Like the Capitol, but without the drawbacks. If you weren't, then you lived another life. Khol had liked the idea of reincarnation for about two seconds before he remembered that no matter where you were in Panem, chances were that you weren't happy.

But maybe that was a simplification. Maybe there were happy families, families who didn't understand how sad they should be with their lives. People who found joy in the little things. Should Khol have tried to live like that? Would he be at home, with Isadora and his mother, if he had tried to live like that?

What did it matter, anyway?

"Put down the knife," Khol said. He was surprised by how cold his voice seemed.

"Make me."

Khol recognized the voice. It was Percival. "Put down the knife," he repeated.

"No!" Percival practically shouted. A flock of bird left their nest and flew through the sky. "I have the knife! I'm the powerful one now! You can't take it from me!"

"Put it down."

Percival laughed. "Didn't you have an ally?"

Khol shrugged. "She's hiding. Waiting for you. If you don't drop it—"

"Liar. She's dead, isn't she? The Three girl?"

"Put it down."

"What, did you kill her? Or was it just an accident?" Percival laughed. "It's always an accident, isn't it?"

"I didn't kill her." Khol blinked. "Well, maybe I did."

"Well, don't tell me," Percival drawled. "I don't care, you freak."

Khol laughed. "A mutt killed her. And Florence. And me."

"Florence?"

"She's dangerous."

"We're all our own forms of dangerous, aren't we, Twelve? You're crazy. And I have a knife."

 _You're the crazy one._ "You won't have the knife for long. Because you're going to put it down."

"Why do you care so much, anyway?"

Khol swallowed. "Zara died so that I could have that knife."

Percival picked it up. The blade glinted silver in the moonlight. "Do you think that I care about that?"

"Have you ever had a friend?"

Percival laughed again. "Have you?"

"Hardly. I was a freak. Like you said. But you were just a laborer."

"Not _just_ a laborer—"

"Yes, just a laborer. Maybe you're a person, sure. But how can you be any more when no one treats you as any more?"

"Are you sure this isn't your own problem? Isn't your whole thing that you know who you are? Or now that Zara's dead, do you realize that that's all bullshit?"

"Shut up!"

The silvery knife fell to the ground, and Khol wanted to throw up, realizing that it reminded him of the monster that had killed Zara. But Khol didn't have time to focus on that. He dove towards the knife as Percival disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

At the Cornucopia, Faustia angrily broke a stick in two. She was keenly aware that everyone else was watching her, waiting for her to prove herself to be weak. The only person she could really trust not to kill her was _Luke,_ of all people, and that was only because he was a weakling himself. Still, Faustia couldn't keep her anger from escaping. In another day of hunting, a perfect day with perfect weather, she, Landon, and Paris hadn't managed to catch another Tribute. All they had gotten was a deer.

"Tomorrow, we'll catch someone," Paris said, as if responding to her thoughts. "If it snows again, then it'll be easy to find a trail."

"If it snows, then movement might be inconvenient," Kaede pointed out.

"I thought that you were—"

Kaede cut Faustia off as he held up the net of wood he had been working on all day. It was a snowshoe, designed for better travel on the snow. Faustia gave him an appreciative nod. "Are you sure it'll work?"

"Fairly." Kaede tossed another stick onto the fire.

At least it was a nice night. Landon wasn't used to being out in nature, but it really was as beautiful as everyone had said it would be. Too bad that it was the Games. Landon closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Kira.

Something snapped in the woods.

Landon jerked around. "Did you—"

"Yes. Everyone—"

Another snap. Faustia nodded at Paris, and the two of them approached the noise in the woods, weapons at the ready. They ventured a few steps into the woods when they heard a yell.

Paris turned around, and Faustia trusted him to guard her back as she continued to search the darkened woods. But then Paris said, "they need us!"

Faustia abandoned her search, turning, when suddenly she smacked into something and hit the ground. She briefly panicked before realizing that she had just tripped over Paris. "Tree root," he said as if in explanation. She ignored him, dashing back into the clearing.

Mist, meanwhile, was fighting against Luke, Landon, and Paris. She had thrown the rocks while in the woods and then circled around the Career camp. Her bait had worked, and now she finally had a chance to kill some of them! The main trick of fighting multiple people was making sure that they couldn't get behind you, and so far, it was working. She had knocked Kaede to the ground within the first instant, and it had been easy to trip Luke. She was going on Landon now, knife on mace. She had longer reach than him, and more strength, and every blow of hers sent him stumbling back a step. She drove him into the clearing, intent on knocking the knife from his hand. Somehow, he seemed to anticipate this move, though, and he kept his hand out of her reach. He clearly knew that he couldn't win against her, and Mist knew that he was just trying to stall until one of his allies could reach her. Mist withdrew her knife. She made a final swing at Landon's knife, latching the end of her mace onto the blade, and pulling up so that Landon's hand went with her. With his stomach unguarded, Mist took a step forward and thrust with the knife.

It didn't reach its target.

Sure, it went slightly into Landon's stomach. But he just _had_ to be smart, cutting his losses and dropping the knife, taking a step back. He was bleeding, but it didn't look fatal. Mist didn't even have time to focus on that, whipping around and knocking Kaede's axe away from her. He didn't let that stop him, taking another swing as if Mist were just a tree, but Mist ducked out of the way and went low, swinging upward. If she could just land a hit on his chin, she might be able to send the bone through his brain...but no, he dodged that one, too, and then Mist felt the ground shift behind her.

Paris knew that he couldn't defeat Mist on his own. But with an ally behind him, he was confident of it, and Paris was _not_ going to let Mist kill one of his allies while he was still breathing. He knew that he was one of the most useless members of the alliance. Kaede and maybe even Landon had been more useful than him. But this wasn't about usefulness anymore. This was about a bully trying to hurt one of his allies. Paris swung his sword at Mist's neck.

He was almost glad that she turned around and blocked his sword. He couldn't imagine himself killing anyone, and even when considering killing Mist, he had to stop short. Was he really able to do something like that? Mark had killed three people. But could Paris be like Mark? Did he even want to? And what about when it meant survival?

 _Focus!_ Paris jerked himself out of his useless thoughts, dodging the next blow, and iwas ncredibly relieved to notice Faustia stabbing at Mist's side with her sword, Luke fast approaching with two knives on the other side. Landon was still on the ground, but Paris could only hope that he was safe. Paris made another swing at her. His knife clanked on her mace.

Mist was surrounded. She knew it. So she went low again, swinging low. Someone screamed, and Mist knew that her mace had at least bruised their legs. She tripped two others.

She stood up, only Faustia in her way. But Faustia was strong, and the two girls went toe to toe against each other. Faustia had the upper hand for a moment, her increased training aiding her, but Mist was used to fighting in the dark. She pushed Faustia to the side and made for the woods.

But someone else blocked the way— _are you fucking kidding me?!_ Mist roared, slamming her mace down on their head, and the figure collapsed. She leapt over it, and as she reached the edge of the woods, the cannon fired.

"Luke!" Paris bent down, and retched as he saw the disgusting thing that was Luke's face. It had been smashed in by the mace, his dark skin now unrecognizable in the red and white and pink that had consumed it from the inside. There was bone. There was blood. There was brain matter. Paris forced himself to look away.

"She's gone?"

"Yes."

Faustia didn't speak, but Paris wasn't sure that she wasn't planning on killing him. "How's Landon?"

"Alive. But Luke—"

"I know."

Faustia's glance told Paris all that he needed to know. This attack had shattered her confidence. He wondered how this would play out. They needed her to be a leader. They needed her to be in control. If she stepped down—Paris shuddered at the thought. He honestly wished that Luke were here. He would have been comforting about this.

Faustia bit her lip. She had messed up. She had fucked up, big-time, and no a member of her alliance was dead.

 _Never again._

What didn't kill you made you stronger, and Faustia knew that she had to bounce back and not show any weakness at this. This would never happen again. From now on, the Careers _were_ going to be a threat. And Mist would rue the day she had messed with them.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Acacia

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Luke: I really loved his relationship with Jedd, and for a second I considered making him the Victor because he really deserved a happy ending. Then reality hit. In the end, I think that Luke was a breath of fresh air because he was a largely nice guy in a place designed for not-nice people. In the end, he just couldn't cut it. RIP, Luke. Thanks to** _ **Let's Eat Cody.**_

* * *

 ** **Authors' Notes:****

 **Ash's boyfriend has the same name of a former Tribute, and that's confusing. Also, Cabe has a habit of looking into cameras, like Jim from the office. Anyway...I'm glad to share that with everyone. Thanks for reading, and see you next week!**

 **QotW: If it came down to it, would you kill someone?**


	29. Cold Hands, Cold Hearts

Mags and Caspian had given them small sponsor gifts every day, enough to keep them fed and fix up Hector's wound, but Hector knew that he and Meri were quickly becoming boring. And in the morning, he had seen tracks in the snow. He knew that it was time to go and hunt something.

"It'll be nice to have some meat, anyway," Meri said thoughtfully.

Coming from 4, they were used to eating a lot of fish. Hector had red meat or chicken every once in a while, when his father's pay came in and he was feeling particularly generous. It would be nice to have some of it now.

Gentle flurries were coming down from the sky, and while they were freezing, the air itself wasn't too bad. The snow had gotten pretty deep in just an hour or so, and it kept coming, but Hector was comforted by the knowledge that it would all melt during the night.

"Come on."

Meri handed him his spear, and the two of them set off in the direction of the tracks. Hector pulled his gloves on tighter. He finally understood the strange Tribute outfit. His stylist had said that the tight pants were thermal, and with the tall boots, he was fairly warm. His jacket was long and went practically to his knees, and under it he had a sweater and another shirt. Hector put his hood up. He wasn't very used to the strange stinging feeling that came to his ears with the cold.

Every step that he took led him to sinking deep into the snow, but Hector had been trained not to just give up based on that. In a way, it was kind of like walking through the sea while looking for oysters. You had to keep your balance, despite the fact that your legs weren't quite yours anymore. But at least in the snow, the snow wasn't actively trying to knock you over. However, the sea did cover up all footprints. Hector knew that they were leaving lots of tracks.

The thought made him incredibly nervous. Talon's knife had struck him in the arm, and it was healing very well. With the medicine he had gotten, it was practically fine. A bit achy, but fine. Still, Talon's attack had disturbed him. He had felt almost... _safe_ within their circles of traps. But Talon had hurdled them so easily. _Was I really enough of an idiot to believe that we were safe? And what if I do something stupid like that again?_ What if Hector died the next time? What if Meri died?

"There."

Meri stopped them, and they peered out from behind a tree. A deer stood before them, just a few feet away. Its spots blended in with the tree behind it, and its long legs loped out of the snow with ease. Hector wanted to laugh, for some reason. It was such a beautiful animal.

Well, they were going to have to kill it.

Hector almost didn't want to. He was used to killing fish, yes, but those were so...impersonal. The deer's large brown eyes seemed almost human—

Without warning, a spear flew out of nowhere and hit it. Hector turned to Meri. She had thrown the spear. The look on her face, though, was so indifferent. Why was Hector surprised? After all, for all of his training, she had spent every day either in the canneries or out on the open ocean fishing. She was used to killing animals. It was just...she was such a nice girl. Nice girls weren't supposed to be able to slaughter deer like that.

Meri was proud of herself. With that deer, she and Hector would be able to eat well. In addition, she had proven that her training score wasn't a fluke. She had strength. She felt slightly sad that her blow had knocked the animal dead on the ground. But in the end, it was just an animal.

But slowly, the deer began to get up, Meri's spear still in its side. _Alright._ It was a mutt. That was expected. Meri withdrew a knife as Hector threw his own spear into the deer's head. It went _through_ the head, the sharp end poking out on the other side, but the deer didn't fall. Its brown eyes suddenly flashed red, and it leapt at them.

Hector pulled Meri behind the tree, out of the line of fire. "Well, that was unexpected."

The deer turned back at them, its eyes completely red, both spears still sticking out of its body. Hector took out his own knife. Meri's heart was racing. After surviving this long, were they going to be killed by a _deer_?! Deer weren't supposed to be like this! They were supposed to die quickly! And _not_ have glowing red eyes!

"Split on three," Hector said.

"Okay."

"One—Three!"

They split apart, and the deer rammed its head into the tree they had been standing next to. For a few moments, snow rained down from the sky, solid and heavy. It bludgeoned Meri, and she fell to the ground. All at once, the cold hit her, roaring in her eyes and in her veins. She tried to push herself up, but there was no solid ground. It was like—

Drowning. It was like drowning.

Meri was full-on panicking, taking shallow breaths. Her vision was dark. She couldn't see anything—

And then her head broke the surface of the snow.

Strangely, the first thing that she made herself locate was Hector. He was swimming through the deep snow, and a deep sense of relief nearly knocked Meri out. But the deer was standing between them— _where's my knife?!_ —and Meri had to work to put both of her hands above the snow. It really _was_ like swimming. Meri hadn't gone swimming in so long.

The deer seemed to focus on Hector, who was displacing far more snow in his attempts to surface, and Meri yelled wildly. The deer turned and charged her. Meri dove back into the snow. The deer's hoof punched a hole next to where her hand was, but it had missed her. It rounded again, and Meri lay flat.

She threw her knife as the deer crossed her, and by some providence, the knife landed in its throat. It was a messy blow, not fatal, and the deer collapsed onto her. But it went _crazy,_ biting at her face with teeth that seemed much too sharp and much too large. Meri writhed, trying to get out from under it as it went for her nose. She managed to lift her hand and punch it in its stupid face.

She howled in agony. The deer's skull might as well have been metal. But she had distracted the stupid thing, and in an instant, Hector was ripping it off of her. Meri heard the sickening sound of a knife on flesh, and then on bone, and then Hector said, "I cut its head off!"

They both took a moment to appraise the other. They were each covered in blood. Meri's braid was coming out. Hector gave a short laugh, and then Meri laughed, and then they couldn't stop themselves.

Finally, Meri was able to speak again. "That took _way_ too much effort."

"What are you talking about? You don't do that every day?"

Meri giggled again, getting more and more uncontrollable. Hector continued. "Back in _my_ house, the only way to get to eat anything is to kill it. I wrestle with carrots and cabbages every night. And Father and I both take out our sword whenever we eat fish. Beef? Don't even get me started. What a _nightmare._ "

"Oh yeah? Well, you don't have it half as bad as I do. I have to climb up and down the cliffs every day, and let me tell you, those cliffs all look the same. I'm surprised that I haven't accidentally climbed into someone else's house yet."

Hector's face hurt from all of his grinning. He took a deep breath, before laughing again. "Cliffie."

Meri lightly slapped him on the shoulder. They stared at each other for a moment, before each blushing. Meri turned away from him. "Um...we should go back."

"Yeah." Hector couldn't jump up fast enough. He was freezing, but his face felt like it was burning. "Um...yeah." He grabbed the front legs of the deer and threw it over his shoulder. Only years of training with his father kept him standing. He felt Meri take some of the weight. "Do you think it's safe to eat?"

Meri laughed. He had never noticed before, but it was a nice sound. "I sure hope so. Can you imagine if we went through all of this just to be poisoned?"

A small silver parachute fell out of the air. Hector grabbed it as it floated down and ripped it open. Inside was a small thing, plastic and metal, with gear-seeming things on the side. He absentmindedly flicked the gears, and yelped when a flame jumped out of it.

"Whoa! What's wrong?"

Hector laughed. "Just...surprised, is all. I think that we got a lighter."

"I'm guessing that's the go-ahead."

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad. I'm hungry enough to eat this on my own."

"Well, you'll have to share."

"I don't mind."

* * *

"What about you? What was it like growing up as Gregori Redglove's son?"

Midas was all too aware that the three younger Tributes were watching him. He hesitated for a moment. He hated talking about his father, but he knew that if he refused, they would realize that something was off. It was clear that Adalicia wasn't all that she seemed. Midas couldn't risk losing his alliance. Yes, they might have been getting useless. But Midas doubted that he would be better off alone.

To bid for time, Midas asked, "do you know much about Gregori Redglove?"

"My father really respects him," Cabe said. He was getting quiet. It wasn't hard to notice that Cabe hated talking about his father. "He talks a lot about your businesses, and he really liked the book about loyalty." Cabe reddened. "Although, he said that the book about respect for authority was 'bullcrap of the highest order.'" Cabe looked torn between laughter and tears.

Acacia made it easier for all of them by laughing. "Is that right? I thought that my mother was the only one! Mother doesn't _say_ anything, of course, but she keeps all of Mr. Redglove's books on our main bookshelf, and the one about respect for authority is always on some random table."

"My parents didn't know the books as well," Adalicia said. "Well, I guess that they never really had the opportunity to learn them. By the time that your father's books were published, my mother was…"

Adalicia trailed off, and Midas recalled how Uphriel had tried to get her to talk about an incident with her mother's work. Her mother was teacher, if Midas was remembering correctly. Now that he thought about it, there had been a minor story about some school-related deaths in District 1 earlier that year...that was probably why Adalicia was here.

Well, as far as all of their stories went, it wasn't bad. Now that Midas thought about it, the four of them were the Tributes in this game who were in for the crimes of their parents, and not for something that they had done themselves.

 _Keep telling yourself that, and maybe it'll come true._ Midas sardonically smiled to himself. Maybe if he acted like a kind babysitter for long enough, he'd actually turn into a good person. But that would be stupid.

"Which is your favorite of your father's books?" Adalicia asked.

Midas forced himself to smile at her. Out of all of the people here, she was the one he could least afford to reveal himself to. "I personally enjoyed Justice in Business. But honestly, I think that they're all good, and that all of the morals they teach are important. And he's my father. I can't exactly judge him."

"What was it like growing up with such a famous person as your father?" Adalicia continued to pry.

 _What was it like?_ What could anyone say about Gregori Redglove? Midas's father was a famous author and businessman, who had also been involved in politics and military for a brief time. Growing up with him had taught Midas all about strategy, about manipulation, about how to survive in a high-class household and a world that was trying to tear you down. Of course, Gregori's way of teaching that had been rather cruel. He had always been distant and incredibly cold, teaching Midas to be an asset to the family and punishing Midas appropriately when he failed. Gregori made made it clear that Midas didn't deserve care simply because he was his son. It had been a harsh upbringing. But Midas was grateful for it. Without that kind of childhood, he wouldn't have made it this far.

A thought came to him. _Would I have even been here if he hadn't been my father?_ If not for District 8's hate of the Redgloves, would Midas have even been on this death path? Would he have just grown up as a poor laborer, unhappy, but safe?

 _Would I even want that?_

Midas might have been about to die, but he also had the opportunity to win. He had been presented with _opportunity._ His life had been _better._ He was _better._ And he wouldn't give that up for the world.

There was no point in thinking about this, anyway. Midas was in the Games. Nothing could change that. To focus on the past would be irresponsible.

"My father was...interesting. I suppose that it's not my place to judge any of the parenting decisions he made. Especially with him watching right now." Midas forced an easygoing grin onto his face. "He taught me a lot. I'm grateful for that."

"Wow," Adalicia laughed. "All of you had such fancy lives. My mother was just a schoolteacher. Not much there."

"I bet you always got ahead in school, though," Acacia said.

"My mother was my teacher in my first year of school. I remember getting upset when she made me call her 'Mrs. Corona' instead of 'Mother.' I pouted for a straight week. But on that Friday, she let me drink some of her coffee. It was the first time I had coffee. It fixed everything, for some reason."

Midas carefully watched Adalicia. He couldn't tell whether she had an amazingly convincing mask on or whether she genuinely was feeling nostalgia, love, guilt, and confusion, all of which were clear on her face. She really was disgustingly adorable.

"Father let me have coffee starting when I was four. Mother tried to tell him not to, but he insisted that it would help me be a man." Cabe laughed, pretending to flex his arms. "I think he's disappointed that it didn't work." Midas could easily sense bitterness on his face.

Acacia, though, clearly couldn't, instead laughing. "I don't see how anyone could be disappointed with you."

Midas was almost shocked by the statement. He had never seen Acacia look so...not afraid. He wondered if he should worry. The Games weren't supposed to give anyone confidence. They were meant to destroy. _Not_ build people up. Midas could _not_ let that happen.

* * *

Kronos took another sip of water. The water from the river had seemed to easy to reach, still flowing through the cold weather. Pieces of ice flowed down with it, but the water was still drinkable, and that probably meant that it was poisoned. Kronos had instead melted some snow and added some iodine that Clarence, District 9's mentor had sent. He wondered if Florence had gotten anything yet.

He eyed the bloodstained snow around him. He had found a family of rabbits hiding in their warren, and had killed them all. He had set up a fire, and then ripped up part of his backpack to trap the smoke and keep anyone from seeing it. He knew that some of the smoke was escaping. But he almost wanted to fight. He was itching to finally make someone bleed. To make someone pay for the world that they were living in. Especially a Career.

Kronos stabbed a piece of meat with a stick and held it over his fire. For some reason, he kept coming back to the image of his dog. He imagined that the old mutt would like these wintry woods. When Kronos was younger, he would try to lure the dog into his home. But the dog had never stayed long. Kronos used to worry about it dying. But it always came back. Even as people in District 9 froze to death, the old dog stayed alive.

Sarah, though, hated the winter. Her brother had lost seven fingers one winter, and Sarah claimed that two of her fingers on her left hand didn't work any more. She said that summers were the only time that she felt warm. She loved the long summers in District 9. She loved the heat, even though Kronos hated it, and she loved the blinding sun.

Well, at least the sun was still blinding.

"Here's to you," Kronos said, taking a bite of meat.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D3: Cabe Corda (15)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Acacia

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **I know that this chapter was a bit slow. I want a bit more time to develop everyone before I murder them all. :D**

 **QotW: What's your opinion on the Hector/Meri alliance?**


	30. Chasing Apparitions

**Day 3:**

Fiori eyed the small wolf from the copse in a tree, aiming her knife. She threw it with all of the force that she could muster. For a moment, her heart soared, as the knife looked like it would hit the wolf and get her some meat.

But the wolf moved at the last moment, darting deeper into the woods. _Fuck,_ Fiori thought to herself as her stomach grumbled. She really needed to get her hands on some food, but it had been so hard! The blinding light of the day on the snow put off lots of glare, giving Fiori several blind spots in her vision. She couldn't really be sure that anything she was seeing was actually there. Even worse, a threat might be hovering off to the side, in one of her blind spots.

It reminded her of winters back in 10. But there, she and Nikki had always traveled together, watching each other's backs. A sudden moment of nostalgia and loneliness hit her, but Fiori shook it off. If she could succumb to loneliness, then that meant she was _way_ too weak to ever make it far in the Games. And Fiori did _not_ plan on doing anything stupid sometime soon. She was going to make it farther than the godforsaken winter on the third day.

 _Okay. So I failed. But what does that matter?_ Fiori slid out of the tree she had been in and retrieved her knife. _If you fall down, you just get back up again. To refuse to try and stand back up_ — _that's the real weakness._

* * *

Talon had used the snow as an opportunity to go hunting. He only had a single kill right now, and his hands itched for more. But the woods seemed empty. In several hours, he had only come across several birds. He had found three tracks, but the size of them indicated that they belonged to the Careers, and Talon knew that if he came upon them now, it was likely that he would die. If only he could pick one of them off...ideas started flowing through his mind. He could distract them. He could draw them apart. He could pick them off.

But these weren't children anymore. They weren't Jesse or Emily or Colby or Freya. They wouldn't be fooled by Talon's stupid games, he knew that. And he didn't play mind games. He killed people. He hurt them. He didn't quite know what to do when up against someone stronger.

He continued to move, deeper into the woods. The snow had stopped around noon, but now it was starting to come down in flurries again. He felt a snowflake land on his forehead and melt there. It was an interesting feeling. Such a small part of his body, affected by such a small thing, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about it. He hated that something small could have so much power.

Well, Talon had always hated snow, anyway. Emily had always loved snow. She had loved everything. She was a bright girl, friendly and always smiling. She had even loved Talon, for a while. Talon wasn't convinced that a part of her didn't still care for him. She was an idiot. And Jesse...he had been blind for years. He had loved snow. Talon assumed that it was due to the increased sensation that it gave him. As a rule, Talon hated anything that his siblings loved.

The snow kept coming down anyway. Talon glared at the sky. _If I could kill you, I would!_ The urge to _hurt,_ to _destroy,_ came over him, and Talon swung his sword into a nearby tree. It groaned, but didn't fall. Talon ripped his sword out. Another snowflake fell onto his head.

Wait.

Talon wasn't good at recognizing pain. His father, Galon Prime, had had a nasty habit of beating his wife and children before he had died. Talon had gotten fairly used to it. He was used to the pain that came from working in the fields every day and having to throw every facet of your life and body into the work. He had seen men become hunched over and broken by work with the livestock. But not Talon. He had endured. He was _better_ that all of them, he had _survived,_ and he wasn't _ever_ going to let anything beat him down again. The livestock had saved him when a bull had gored his father. He had learned how to slaughter them with impunity and how to raise them from calves so that they blindly followed him anywhere. He had been bitten and torn and scarred and it was hard for him to feel pain at anything anymore.

But this snowflake...it _hurt._ It burned. Talon waited another few moments. The snowflakes were normal. But then—another snowflake hit him, and this one burned again. He stood still for a few moments as burning snowflakes hit him and watched, fascinated, as a small black hole burned into his jacket.

What the hell was going on? Another snowflake hit his ear, and Talon felt as if it was fire falling from the sky. He to the trunk of a tree. How could he protect himself? And what _was_ this? The snow already on the ground was melting as the new snow hit it—

Acid.

Acid rain had fallen in District 10 when Talon was young. The Capitol labs that experimented on livestock had malfunctioned, and chemicals had been released into the air. It had been a disaster for all fieldworking people. This seemed like acid rain. Only...it was snow.

He stumbled forward, staying close to the trunks of trees. He tried to keep on moving forward. He knew that he should eventually get out of the range of the acid snow. Every Arena trap had a range. He moved forward, going deeper into the woods, where there was more and more cover. Movement was difficult, but he kept his weight spread around and leaned on as many trees as possible. The snow was shallower near the trunks, which made walking easier.

The small pains of the acid snow became more and more of small distractions rather than actual problems. Talon knew how to deal with pain, anyway. They didn't really matter. All that mattered was making sure that he just survived for another few days. His head brushed against low tree branches as he moved through the forest.

In the distance, he caught sight of a small clearing. The forest had been pretty evenly wooded so far, and the clearing just got bigger as he got closer. It must have been at least a hundred feet across, maybe two hundred feet wide. Not another prairie, but still strange. As he got closer, Talon noticed some strange figures in the field. His heart rate went up. He was finally going to get another kill! His hands itched to take another life, like the life of the little girl from 8 that seemed so much like Colby.

But the figures weren't human. After a moment, the pieces fell into place, and Talon realized that they were snowmen. He had made them with Emily when they were very young. His father had destroyed most of them.

They varied in size, and were all dressed. One of them was facing him, and had eyes and a nose made of coal. No mouth. Talon had no doubt that they were mutts, and considered turning back. But something seemed... _off._ Talon got closer to them, hovering at the edge of the woods. He looked up, noticing that the acid snow had stopped. There were dark clouds in every direct away from the clearing. The Gamemakers wanted him here.

The largest snowman couldn't have been as tall as Talon was. A strange design for a mutt. It was wearing a long red dress, slightly tattered, but very bright against the snow and trees. It reminded Talon of—

Emily. The snowman was the same height and wore the Reaping dress of his younger sister. Talon checked the others. The second-tallest wore a dirty white shirt and a leather jacket like Jesse did. It had no eyes. Jesse was blind. The two small ones wore clothes like Colby and Freya.

All four of them were facing now. Talon swore, drawing his sword.

They all leaned forward, moving towards Talon. _Family reunion,_ he thought to himself, drawing a knife and throwing it at the Freya-snowman. It imbedded itself in her head, knocking the top ball of snow off. Talon had always thought that it would be satisfying to behead Freya, and now he had (kind of) gotten the chance! But the other two balls of snow kept rolling towards him.

Talon darkly laughed, charging forward.

He went for Freya's first, cutting the middle ball of snow in half and kicking the bottom. It hurt to do, but the ball of snow exploded and fell apart. Talon threw his other knife at the Emily-snowman, charging Colby's. He wondered if his siblings were watching now. Colby would be panicking by this point. "Can't get away," Talon crooned at the Colby-snowman, stabbing it through the face. Again, the top snowball fell off, and Talon ripped his sword out of it and dashed in a circle around the snowman, stabbing it through the back multiple times until it fell apart around his sword. It was immensely satisfying. Not as satisfying as killing his _actual_ siblings, of course, but still with a bit of fun to it. After all, these were the children that had _actively campaigned,_ asking people to vote him into the Games! And now there were in here with him! Talon wildly slashed his sword through the remains of Colby, swinging around to find Jesse approaching him.

"Can't get me, can't get me," Talon chanted, before going silent and slicing backwards, hitting the Emily-snowman in the chest. He pulled his sword out and backed up as the two snowmen approached him, silent and deadly. He wondered what they could do to him. The Emily-snowman had a knife in its head. Talon laughed, charging the two snowmen.

It was all too easy to tear them apart.

Talon stopped for a moment. That was the problem. It was too easy. There was no blood, no screams, just silence and snow. No satisfaction.

Talon growled in rage, kicking at the snow. He picked up the shirt the Jesse-snowman had been wearing, tearing it in part. The ripping made a noise and actually gave Talon a challenge. _Satisfying._

Talon looked up to the sky. The clouds were still there. "I'll kill you!" He screamed at the empty nothingness. "I'll kill you all! For everything that you've done!" He imagined blood flowing, bodies dropping. "I'll kill you all!"

The clouds suddenly dissipated.

* * *

Zoe stayed fairly active, but had spent most of her time in the Arena so far practicing climbing trees. She knew that she could use weapons, but her escape tactics were rather limited, especially in the snow. She almost wished that Fiori was here. It would make things less boring. Or rather, it would take her mind off of reminiscence.

The color of the sky today was a strange blue-gray. It reminded Zoe of Nathan's eyes. Zoe preferred to think of Nathan's eyes when he had been happy and laughing, but the angry shade of the sky reminded her of the determined look that he got while on missions sometimes. It had been that last mission that had really ruined everything. _I love you,_ Zoe thought to the air, knowing that no one could hear.

She heard a gentle thump behind her and turned.

"You really aren't very observant."

Zoe knew that she shouldn't have been so insulted by Mist's words, and really should have been more worried about dying, but she felt strangely offended. She was _done_ with people telling her that she wasn't good enough. "Do you want this fight, Mist?"

Mist answered by swinging a mace at her.

Zoe brought her knives into an X, catching the blow. The force of it reverberated up her arms, but Zoe stayed strong, moving out of the way. She swung the longer knife, and it neatly cut through Mist's parka. But Mist just laughed, swinging her mace again, this time at Zoe's side. Zoe backed up, feeling slightly off-balance, especially in the snow, but quickly righted herself. Mist was on her again in a moment, sending out a flurry of blows that Zoe could only barely manage to deflect. One of them, caught on the blade of Zoe's shorter knife, sent a shot of pain through Zoe's wrist. _Don't let it be sprained, don't let it be sprained…_ Zoe didn't see the next blow coming.

It landed on her shoulder and sent her flying across the clearing. The pain was almost dizzying, but Zoe bit her lip, rolled, and stood up. _I'm stronger than this. I'm better than this! I know how to handle this! I am_ not _going to die!_ She took a chance and pulled out her third knife, a tiny one. She threw it at Mist.

It landed in Mist's shoulder, and Mist swore. Zoe almost smiled, but she knew that if the long scar down Mist's face was any indicator, Mist would be hard to defeat. But Mist just grinned at her—a terrifying look—and spat at her.

"See you soon."

Slightly worried, Zoe watched Mist turn and run. On instinct, she ran, too, in the opposite direction as Mist. She heard something roaring behind her and knew that running had been the right choice. She chanced a glance behind her and saw a straight wall of snow.

 _Of course._ How did you emphasize winter? With a fucking avalanche. _Couldn't just give me a break? What? Am I too boring?!_ Zoe ran faster. She had to get up a tree. She saw a pine in the corner of her eye and practically threw herself at it, her palms burning, her shoulder aching, her wrist screaming, and pulled herself up the tree. The day of practice saved her. She felt the tree bend under the force of the snow and held on for dear life.

But she was safe! The snow had passed her by, and Zoe was still alive! She had never had any particular verve for life. But somehow, surviving this...endorphins were running through her, and Zoe felt feelings of relief that nearly cancelled out her pain. She felt something else, too, something that was bitter and angry but that reminded her of happiness.

She was _alive._

* * *

Percival was going to die. He knew it with a sinking certainty as he stared into the eyes of the wolf. He was going to die for a crime that he had never committed. He wished that they'd feel sorry back in 6. But he knew that they'd cheer his death.

The thought made him angry. What had he ever done to deserve this? He'd made a few mistakes. So had his parents, when they had sold him to the cargo train! So had the train captains who'd beat him! So had all of the other children he'd worked with! Everyone made mistakes! So why did his deserve so many repercussions!

Anger exploded within him. He held his crude club higher, glaring at the wolf.

The wolf sprang at him.

Percival smacked it aside with the club. He might not have been a Career, but he had spent his whole life lifting cargo and pushing other kids out of his space. The wolf came back at him, but Percival hit him again.

His anger was taking control. _Not my fault_ — _Why would you send me_ — _Killers_ — _Liars_ — _Murderers_ — _It wasn't my fault!_ He let out a yell as he smashed the tree branch down onto the wolf, over and over. It collapsed under his blows. _We all fall down, huh, and no matter who falls or why you blame it on_ me _for some reason?! No! No more! It wasn't my fault! And you'll_ never _say that it was my fault again!_

There was blood on his hands.

Percival smiled.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (17); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)  
** **D3: Cabe Corda (15)  
** **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)  
** **D5: Landon Mercer (17)  
** **D6: Percival Pisani (16); Zoe Winter (18)  
** **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18); Acacia Mildeye (14)  
** **D8: Midas Redglove (17)  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)  
** **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)  
** **D11: Mist Orchard (18)  
** **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri  
Midas, Adalicia, Cabe, Acacia

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **Mist vs. Zoe is probably my favorite set of rivals to work with other than Mist vs. Faustia. And fun, an infodump for Talon! Also, I'd like to thank all of you for getting to over 150 reviews. That's pretty amazing. I hope that everyone enjoyed, see you next update!**

 **QotW: Which Tribute scares you the most?**


	31. For His Civility

The night was becoming warmer with each passing hour. The air was still cold, but it was thick with the moisture and humidity that came along with spring. If you looked closely, you could almost see buds blossoming in fast motion as the changes of the seasons came along. It was...discombobulating, to say the least, that things were changing so fast. Almost as if Midas was living a whole life in a few single days. They had already gone what, the equivalent of a year and a half? Living like this, who needed a real lie at all?

Midas laughed to himself sardonically. It was almost as if the Gamemakers were compensating them for the lives that they wouldn't be able to live. The Arena was beautiful, no doubt, and the last few days had been quiet. Only five deaths. It couldn't last.

Right on cue, Midas heard the snapping of branches. He quietly shook Adalicia, Acacia, and Cabe awake. It had become their habit to start moving whenever they heard anything. Even if it was just an animal, it never hurt to be safe. Acacia was up in an instant. Surprisingly, she was the best at being alert in the middle of the night. Cabe and Adalicia were harder to wake, both of them looking very _young_ in sleep.

Midas hated thinking of them as young. They had gotten several sponsor gifts over the last few days, especially after killing several of the mutts that had come after them, and Midas knew that it was partly because of how cute the younger ones were. He had definitely been getting points for taking care of them; Ned's gifts had told him that much. At this point, the Capitol loved them. And Midas supposed that he had to be grateful to the younger kids for that.

Still, thinking of them as children was dangerous. They were competition, nothing more than that. They would be useful up until a point, and Midas had to be ready to jump ship when that point came.

It wasn't malice. Just survival.

* * *

Faustia had taken her entire group away from the Cornucopia to go hunting tonight. They had armed themselves to the teeth and had hidden some supplies away from the Cornucopia. Faustia knew that anyone could steal supplies from them now. But they needed to maximize on their hunting time, and she couldn't afford to leave anyone behind. There was safety in numbers.

They had been wandering through the woods for the most part, and by midnight, Kaede had been close to giving up. He was used to spending days doing hard work. However, the thing about those days was that there was always a set starting and finishing time. The idea of doing work all through the night with no end in sight? It was annoying. But Kaede was a Mitchell. They didn't shy away from work.

He glanced over at Landon, who had a bit of a glare on his face. Kaede and Landon had been watch partners for the last night, and they had gotten a chance to talk. Kaede knew that he and Landon were at a disadvantage, as they weren't truly Careers like Faustia and Paris were. It was important to have common ground with someone in this alliance. When things fell apart, Kaede needed to have someone who wasn't out to kill him.

The night was dark and cold, reminding him of March and early April in District 7. His steps squelched in the mud. It was an unpleasant feeling, but one that Kaede was used to. He hoped that it would rain soon, as going to the lake made him feel uncomfortable, like some kind of mutt was watching him. Then again, rain could easily lead to some sort of flood, which would be worse. Kaede glanced around himself, noting low branches that he could jump into if need be.

Paris was inclining his head towards something. Kaede stepped forward, bending down, internally swearing as his knees touched the cold mud on the ground. Sure enough, there were footprints. Many of them. Faustia nodded, and the four of them followed the footprints. The forest floor was fairly devoid of crunching leaves and snapping branches, but the mud still made noise with every lift and fall of a foot. Kaede put a hand on his axe, loosely holding the base of it. He was ready to attack.

Landon wondered who they were going to find when they caught up with the owners of the footprints. There were four sets of them, so it was going to be a large group of people. But the feet were fairly small. Looking down at them, Landon couldn't help but think of Kira. He forced thoughts of his little sister from his mind. He was fighting for her, yes. But he didn't want to think of her before killing someone.

Paris knew that he was probably going to see his District partner again. She was one of the only people in the Arena with feet that small. He had to swallow hard at the thought of murdering a little kid like her. _It has to be done,_ he reminded himself.

But that was a lie, wasn't it? None of them had to be killing each other. It was all their choice. Had they chosen wrong? Should they have refused to be the butchers of the Games? After all, they were all going to die somehow. None of them needed blood on their hands.

 _Well...better us than Talon or someone._ At least Faustia and he would dispatch their opponents quickly. Some deaths in the Games had been absolutely horrific. _But does that really justify anything?_

Faustia felt some excitement as she moved forward. She found no particular pleasure in killing people. But she knew that it was her job. She had convinced District 2 to let her go in, and now she had to do them proud. It had been a dry few days, but this was it. She could feel it. She was about to show the world what kind of Career she was.

* * *

Percival watched as the alliance of four got up and began to leave the area where they had been sleeping. They must have heard him moving in the underbrush. He felt a small thrill at having been able to scare them. For once, _he_ was the threat! He was the reason that people felt afraid! They couldn't knock him down and laugh, they couldn't spit on him and call him trash, they couldn't leave him behind! He would follow them, and he would always make them afraid!

He didn't even bother with silence as he followed the alliance. They hadn't invited him to join them! They hadn't wanted him! They had thought that he was _weak,_ that he was a _killer,_ that it was _his fault!_ Well, it wasn't! He was strong! He was scaring them! And when this was over, they'd admit that he had been innocent!

* * *

They reached a part of the woods where a camp had obviously been. There were imprints of sleeping (dead) bodies, and the remnants of a small fire. The tracks continued, but they were joined by another set of feet.

"Someone joined them?" Landon whispered.

"Someone's following them," Kaede suggested in a low voice.

They didn't stop, swiftly moving through the woods. Faustia looked up. The moon was shining bright, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The Gamemakers could sense that something big was about to happen. And Faustia would deliver.

* * *

When Cabe was twelve years old, he had been followed home from school. He had been able to sense that someone was watching him and coming after him. He had walked faster, and heard footsteps of someone matching his speed. Every time he had turned around, no one had been there, but eventually, his follower caught up to him. They had robbed him of his watch and shoes and beat him up pretty well. Cabe had never seen their face.

Cabe couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed now. He knew that they had left because someone or something was in the woods where they had been sleeping. But he had a nasty feeling that it was a Tribute or mutt. Worried, Cabe twisted the watch his father had given him around his wrist. The hands of the watch had been removed before Cabe had entered the Arena. The Gamemakers hadn't wanted to give him an unfair advantage.

He looked back. There was no one there. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed.

Adalicia, too, had the nasty feeling that something was about to go wrong. But if it did, should she stay and fight? Should she try to save herself? Was there any right answer to these questions about life and death when everyone had to die in the end, anyway?

* * *

"We're getting close."

Faustia could hear something moving up ahead. She quickened her pace, no longer being careful about being silent. She had a good sense of where the people she was chasing were, and she didn't care if they knew she was coming. She could catch up to them. She could kill them. If they were really a treat, like Mist was, they would have fought her already.

And whoever it was was definitely weak. They were running now, trying to get away. Through her peripheral vision, Faustia noticed Paris and Landon matching her pace. They clearly didn't want to get in front of her, but they were ready.

She noticed a dark figure up ahead. They were small, but clearly humanoid. Faustia put on an extra burst of speed, drawing her sword and swinging it.

By some miracle, they were able to fall backwards. "Midas!" the boy from District 3 shouted.

"Shit," Landon muttered, as a larger figure came back through the trees. He was holding a knife. Faustia ignored him, stabbing at Cabe. He rolled out of the way, kicking upwards, but Faustia grabbed his foot and flipped him onto his front, twisting his leg. He screamed in pain, and Faustia raised her sword again.

"No!"

 _What the fuck is it_ this _time?!_

Faustia felt something crash into her. She threw her sword to the side so that she didn't actually impale herself, feeling the back of her shirt become soaked with mud.

Midas, meanwhile, was going knife-on-knife with Landon. He was intimidated by Landon's knife-fighting skills, which were better than his. Still, while Midas might not have been the best knife fighter, he noticed all of the little sloppy mistakes that Landon was making. If he could just lead Landon into the woods, away from his allies...his _own_ alliance had really outlived its usefulness anyway.

They were fighting up close, due to the small range of their weapons. Landon thrust forward with his knife, aiming for Midas's chest, and Midas blocked the blow on the pommel of his own knife. He grabbed Landon's wrist, pushing it up so that Landon's knife could get to him, and stabbed forward himself.

But Landon brought his head forward, smashing it into Midas's. Midas stumbled backwards, head spinning. He went to his knees, not trusting his dexterity otherwise, and slashed with the knife. He cut some skin on Landon's knees, and Landon yelped, but took a step forward, stabbing at Midas's head. Midas rolled out of the way— _mud is disgusting_ —and got back to his feet.

He kicked Landon in the shins, and Landon gritted his teeth, grabbing Midas's wrist and stabbing downward. Midas screamed as the knife hit him. _No! This_ — _this can't be happening! It hurts_ — _it hurts!_ He kicked again, and Landon stumbled back, ripping the knife out of his arm.

Blood was flowing. It made Midas woozy.

They were _losing_ —

When suddenly another scream came.

Kaede didn't know what happened. One minute, he was safely on the periphery of the skirmish, and they were fighting some kids. The next, Paris was down, blood flowing from his nose, and another figure was standing with them in the trees.

 _Percival!_

He was going crazy, beating Paris over and over, and Kaede could imagine that another Luke-type situation would happen. He moved forward, meaning to decapitate Percival with his axe. But Percival turned, catching the blow in his club of wood with a surprising amount of strength. Kaede ripped the axe out, stepping in slightly closer and aiming for Percival's arm with his next swing. Percival ducked, tripping over Paris, and scuttled backward. There was madness in his eyes.

Faustia, meanwhile, was wrestling with Acacia. The little girl was light, though, and not much of a challenge. Faustia kicked her in the stomach, sending her sailing overhead. No cannon fired as the girl hit the ground, but Faustia didn't focus on that.

There was chaos around her, at least seven people fighting each other, and mud and darkness—

 _No! Concentrate!_

Faustia located the boy from 3. Fear was evident in his eyes, and he scurried backwards, throwing himself up a tree.

Not fast enough. Faustia grabbed his ankle, pulling him down and stepping on his stomach to pin him to the ground as she drove her sword through his neck. A cannon fired a moment later.

 _One down_ — _where next?_ She backed up against a tree, taking in the scene before her. Landon was fighting Midas and Acacia. Kaede was fighting— _Percival?_ Where was Paris?! Faustia found him, on the ground. _Oh, fuck! Did I miss a cannon?!_ Making an split-second decision, Faustia sprinted to where Landon was, thrusting at Midas's side, which he had left unguarded. Midas threw himself away from the two of them, and Faustia attacked again. She gave an overhead blow. He rolled out of the way, kicking at her, but she jumped over his legs and slashed at his side, catching him in the ribs. But it was a superficial wound, and he forced himself up. Faustia saw hate in his eyes, and then he was somehow running away. Faustia sprinted after him, forcing herself to catch up. It wasn't just that he was the enemy. He had _abandoned_ his alliance!

But things were dark, and somehow, Faustia lost him in the forest. Every way she turned dark shapes that could have been human greeted her. _No! No! This can't be happening!_

Faustia was lost.

The fight had gone out of Acacia as soon as Midas had run away. _He's...regrouping, right?! He'll come back, right?!_ But she remembered how they had run away from the Bloodbath, leaving Jeanna and Robin to die. Maybe this was all that Acacia deserved. Poplar would say that, and Acacia knew that he was right. He was always right, he and Mother. They had both known that Acacia couldn't win. Adalicia had known it, too, that was why she had run away the moment that Cabe had been caught—but could Acacia blame her? Maybe she was the smart one! You had to be stupid to take friendship seriously when only one person could survive! Acacia had rated her friendship with Cabe over herself, and that was where she had been wrong!

Acacia turned her back on Landon, sprinting into the woods herself. Maybe she could escape! She could prove them—

Percival was still going head-on-head with Kaede, and it was really annoying him. How had the boy from 6 become such a threat! With one more swing, Kaede finally cut Percival's club in half. It shattered, splintering into both of their faces and Percival's hands, but Percival didn't show any inclination of giving up, tacking Kaede. The two of them went wrestling in the mud. Percival was scrabbling, scratching, wildly punching. Kaede's body screamed in pain as Percival attacked him. But he kneed Percival in the stomach, slipping in the mud as he flipped Percival to his back, holding Percival's arms over his head and desperately trying to find his axe. Percival bit at him, but couldn't reach him, and then kneed Kaede in the crotch.

Agony bloomed in him, and Kaede momentarily lost his hold on Percival. That was his mistake. He felt Percival's muddy hands close around his neck, nails digging into his skin— _someone help! Please!_ He wildly punched, feeling his hands make contact with flesh, but Percival was persistent. Kaede loudly gasped, trying to drag in air— _Landon, where are you_ —

And then his hands closed around the handle of his axe. Kaede's arms felt heavy and useless. He need air! He made one last swing—

Suddenly, the pressure was gone.

Percival looked up at him. "You—what—how—"

And then a cannon fired.

Another one fired a moment later.

Kaede looked over at Paris, whose chest was still gently rising and falling. He wondered if he should help his ally. Or maybe he should just run away, run away from this death and responsibility.

 _No._ He was a Mitchell. He had done his duty as a Mitchell and as a loyal citizen of Panem. A figure moved in the woods, and Kaede hefted his axe, but it was just Landon, holding a bloody knife.

"Who?" Kaede asked.

"Acacia," Landon said. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Kaede shrugged. So his District partner was dead, dead as her brother had wished. Kaede wished that he could feel emotion from it. But the only emotion that he felt now was fear. Where was Faustia? What if she didn't come back? What if she decided that the alliance was off, leaving him with a half-dead Paris and a dangerous Landon?

Kaede made eye contact with Landon and knew that they were thinking the same thing. At this point, the two biggest threats to them were the Gamemakers and Mist. And after that, it was Faustia.

 _I have to make it home,_ Landon thought to himself. And Faustia was going to be a big thing standing in his way. But after killing the girl from 7, a girl who seemed so similar to Kira...did Landon really deserve to go home? _People make mistakes,_ Mother always said, but this was a pretty huge mistake! And Landon had _intended_ to do it!

"Watch partner?"

Landon raised his eyebrows at Kaede's question. They were watch partners, yes. He finally understood Kaede's meaning. "Yes."

When it came down to it, they would stand together.

Another thing rustled in the woods, but it was just Faustia. She looked relieved to see them. "Not bad," she said.

Landon shrugged. _If you call killing three enemies 'not bad.'_ He looked distastefully around the clearing. There were two bodies, and the huge trees with their spindly branches looked like more enemies, just waiting to kill them. The moon was high overhead. They still had time before the night was over. "Let's go back to camp."

"Okay. Kaede, help me with Paris."

"Are you sure?" Kaede asked. He didn't see how keeping Paris around was useful.

"Yes. We don't abandon our allies."

"We don't?" Kaede asked, smiling slightly so that Faustia knew it was—mostly—a joke.

"No. That's what happened here. They tried to run away. And that's what'll happen to us if we don't take this alliance seriously." Faustia's grey eyes were dead serious. "Understand?"

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (1** **7); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Cabe: I really liked him. I think that he was overshadowed by many other characters and not very fleshed out, but I connected with him in how afraid he was and how willing he was to trust anyone he thought could protect him. He was too good for these Games. RIP, Cabe. Thanks to** _ **AlphaZero21.**_

 **Acacia: Again, she wasn't totally developed as a character. I think many people suspected her to have some sort of craziness to her, but no, she was just a very sweet, naive girl with a tragic family. It was a breath of fresh air to write from the perspective of someone as innocent and trusting as her, but in the end, she just couldn't cut it. RIP, Acacia. Thanks to** _ **Buffyrocks401.**_

 **Percival: Okay, he was honestly one of my favorite characters. His backstory was fun to write, his denial was fun to write, his partial insanity was fun to write, and it was fun to drive him insane. I'm sorry, but I can't deny it. I'm sad to see him go. RIP, Percival. Thanks to** _ **spiderjerky.**_

* * *

 ** **Authors' Notes:****

 **I think a lot of people might have been expecting the children's alliance to go a bit farther, but now...half of them are dead. Sorry to anyone I disappointed. I'm really sad to see these guys go, but in the end...that's just the game.**

 **QotW: Final thoughts on Cabe/Acacia/Percival?**


	32. World of Leaves

**Day Four:**

Adalicia hadn't stopped running for hours. She had gone between sprinting, to jogging, to sprinting again at the slightest sound in the trees, to stopping short at the edge of the forest and turning back around, to jogging again until she was finally ready to collapse with exhaustion.

She had heard three cannons firing in the middle of the night, and knew that it was probably for Cabe, Acacia, and Midas. The idea made her sick. Her alliance, the only people she had been able to depend on, were dead. And she should have been dead with them! But her own selfishness had somehow kept her alive. She had run away the minute that there was trouble!

But—it wasn't selfishness! Just...self-preservation. Right? In a game where everyone had to die, any act was one of self-preservation!

None of that changed the fact that Adalicia might have been able to change the course of things, to save one of her friends—but no. They were dead. Part of Adalicia hoped that Midas was one of the cannons. She knew that he had been manipulating them. He was practically an accessory in their murder! But part of her never, ever would have wished death on anyone. Especially not here.

 _But since I knew and didn't tell anyone, doesn't that make me as bad as him? Gah! I'm such an idiot! What did I_ think _would happen?! And why did I let myself get close to Cabe and Acacia, anyway?! I knew that they were going to die! Capitol, I'm a fucking moron!_

Adalicia finally slowed to a halt. She breathed hard, wheezing, practically crying with exhaustion. She wanted to sleep, but there was no one to keep watch. It was too dangerous. She wanted to rest, but she was too filled with adrenaline and guilt. If her alliance was dead, and she wasn't, then Adalicia had lost the right to live an unguilty life! She wanted to cry, but she had lost the right! Families were crying right now, innocent families who had lost children. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't, not when it would show the audience how weak she was. She wanted to cry, but it was as if she had spent all of her tears on the accident six months ago.

 _Oh, Vasyklo...what do I do now?_

Adalicia had a small backpack with a box of crackers and a water bottle. She had a knife. That was it. She looked into the sky—it was cloudless. No chance of water from above. The day was hot, too, meaning that Adalicia would be sweating a lot. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. The sun, almost aggressive as it warmed her face, reminded her of summer days back in District 1.

It wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

Ash noticed Adalicia before she noticed him. He had been plagued by bugs and rats for the last day or so. He knew that he was getting boring. He also knew that he was expected to kill Adalicia. He put his hand on his short sword. The idea of killing the little girl was reprehensible to him.

He looked back, only to see the trees moving.

It was like they had turned into jelly. They were sinking to the ground, and melting into each other, before rising again. Ash realized what was happening too late. He turned around, nearly tripping on the momentum, and sprinted straight forward. He launched himself off the ground, only to smack straight into the newly-formed wall. The wall really _was_ like jelly. It absorbed most of his impact with a strange sucking sensation— _if I get eaten by a damned_ wall, _I swear to Capitol_ —and then fell back to the forest floor. The hard-packed earth stung, and Ash desperately sucked at the air, trying to draw in a breath.

Gasping painfully as he forced himself back up, he saw Adalicia looking at him, holding out a knife. They were surrounded by the wall on all sides.

The Gamemakers were forcing his hand. _I guess it's you or me, little girl._

 _You or me,_ Adalicia thought to herself. _You or me._ She had known that it was huge possibility that she would have to kill at some point. But she had never been truly faced with that reality until now. Bile rose in Adalicia's throat, and tears to her eyes. _I don't want to kill you! But I don't want_ — _I_ can't— _die! Fuck, it's you or me, and I'm_ not _dying!_

The two of them stared at each other for a moment that dragged on into eternity, and Adalicia felt desperate hope that neither of them would strike—they wouldn't kill each other—maybe they'd _all_ just go home, it would all be a dream—

And then lightning flashed overhead, in the pure-blue summer sky, and Ash knew that he had to make his move. If he didn't strike now, then both of them would die!

 _Shouldn't I just let myself die?_ Ash thought. Part of himself was shouting that the death of two people, rather than one, would be a waste. But Ash wasn't self-centered enough to think that his life _meant_ something. And twenty-three people were going to die anyway.

 _What does it matter if I'm one of them? What does any of it matter? We play our lives by all these stupid, arbitrary rules that are constantly changing, and then we have the audacity to act surprised when the rules are unfair! What the fuck did I expect, anyway?! Did I think that I'd get to go home?_

And then the little girl flew at him.

She was talented enough, that was for sure. At least a foot shorter than him, but talented. Her first blow went to his stomach, and Ash was lucky that he managed to block it on his sword. He used his superior strength to land a hit on the blade of her knife, forcing her to take a step back. Adalicia was smart, though, hiking her backpack over her head to serve as a protector and coming right back again. She threw her knife from her right hand to her left, using her right hand to punch him in the stomach.

Ash clenched his muscles, but the impact still stung, and as he reeled from it Adalicia brought the knife in an upwards strike to his arm. Ash yelled as the knife struck him, flinging an arm forward, and pushed Adalicia back. He advanced on her, drawing his sword with his uninjured arm. She caught her balance and darted forward, ducking under his arm and yanking the knife back out as he screamed. But he quickly turned around— _you won't land a hit on my back, kid_ —and blocked her stab in a wide strike with his sword that seemed to cut the air. He instinctively went on the offensive, thrusting at Adalicia's throat. She went low again, making a wide semicircle with the knife, trying to get at his ankles, but Ash jumped over the blow and kicked forward on his way down, hitting her in the head.

 _Oh my Capitol_ — _did I_ — _is she_ —

No. Her chest was moving up and down. But Ash had to finish this—he had to end it— _she_ had tried to kill him! He was just defending himself! She began to twist, to push herself back up—Ash lifted his sword—

 _No._

He lowered it.

He wasn't going to kill her. He wasn't going to kill a little girl. He wasn't going to play by the Capitol's rules!

He offered his hand to her. She was sitting up now, a bruise flowering on her forehead. She stared at his hand with distrust. "Come on, kid."

Was the world trying to mock her? First Midas, and now this? Adalicia didn't know what Ash wanted, but she knew that it couldn't be good. At best, he was a delusional idiot who was pretending to be a good person. At worst, he was manipulating her. Just like everyone else thought they could!" Do you think I'm _crazy_?"

"I know I am," Ash muttered.

Adalicia flinched away from him.

"It was a joke. A figure of speech. Not everyone is like Talon or Mist, you know."

"Sometimes the people you'd least expect turn out to be monsters."

"Yeah. That's fair."

She ignored his hand, pushing herself up. She was unsteady on her feet, and Ash wondered if he had given her a concussion. She stumbled a few steps forward, and Ash sheathed his sword as he followed her. The wooden walls melted down.

"I don't want an alliance with you," Ash clarified.

Adalicia looked at him. Her vision was slightly blurry for some reason, and Ash's form was convoluted and stretched outwards. She felt tired. But she couldn't sleep. "Then why didn't you kill me?"

He paused for a moment, and Adalicia knew that he couldn't be honest. "Because—behind you!"

Adalicia hit the ground, her head spinning. A dark shape flew over her—wolf. Ash screamed as the wolf slammed into him, claws first. It went for his throat, and he fell backwards, trying desperately to push it off of him. He swung upwards with his sword, cutting into the wolf's side, and the wolf released him. Ash crab-crawled backwards, and the wolf advanced, snapping.

But it was tackled by Adalicia. Its back curved under her weight, but it bucked, trying to throw her off. Adalicia threw her arms around her neck and dragged her knife across its jugular. She groaned as the blood spurted across her hands, rolling off. "Gross!"

Ash snorted. "Yeah. You're just a kid."

 _We're all kids._ Adalicia would never speak the thought. "Why the fuck did you let me live?"

"Because of this," Ash said.

"Oh, what? You can see the fucking future now? Are you _crazy?!_ Do you have some kind of death wish?! Because I'm not spending time with someone with a death wish!"

Adalicia was incredibly annoying. "I don't have a death wish! Can you maybe just be grateful to me for not killing you? Or maybe you can just stay here and swear at the trees. I'm sure that _they'll_ listen to your little temper tantrum."

She glared at him. He glared back. Then he turned and started walking away. "Whatever."

She followed him. "I couldn't agree more."

The two of them certainly were _not_ walking together.

* * *

The summer day in the forest reminded Hector of some of his earliest memories, from before his father had transferred out of 2, back when his mother was still alive and they walked around the forests surrounding District 2. The summer in the Arena was dry and hot and burning, whereas District 4 boasted of humidity year-round. Hector wasn't sure which he preferred.

"Pretty day," he said, feeling stupid that he was spending his time in the Arena making small talk with Meri.

"Yeah. If only there was some food, though."

Meri was used to not having food. Before her father had started running for office in District 4, he had worked in the canneries, where the pay was incredibly low. Food prices wildly fluctuated day to day, and sometimes Meri would have to go without. She could handle a day without eating. Still, her stomach grumbled, and she felt herself swaying on her feet. She didn't trust herself to eat plants in the forest without them poisoning her. Maybe she should just make Hector sit down, and they could wait for their mentors to send them food—no! That was a terrible idea!

Hector had scraped some bark off of a pine tree a few hours ago, and his stomach wasn't handling it well. "If only. Do you think we should go down to the lake?" If it wasn't for the lack of cover, then they could easily fish. Hector didn't want to starve to death, but he didn't particularly feel like getting shot in the back either. He kicked at the soil as if he would uncover a meal. The crumbliness of the soil just reminded him of how dry the day was. _I swear, if we get dehydrated…_

Meri shrugged. For her, going to the lake was the absolute last resort. Actually, she'd take anything but death over going to the lake. She _hated_ large bodies of water, and she knew that if they left the cover of the woods, they'd come to disaster. Even the shallow river that flowed through the forest was bad enough.

"What do you think? Should we wait a few hours?"

"We have to come across something eventually."

"True, I guess. We should probably shut up, right?"

Meri shrugged again. She was really feeling exhausted. That was bad. Very bad. The two of them lapsed into silence. Meri shot Hector a glance. He looked at her and made a face, and she couldn't keep herself from giggling. "Gah! I'm...I'm sorry."

"Meri, can I ask you something?"

"Probably."

"Are you scared of the water?"

The response was _of course not!_ That was the only acceptable thing for a District 4 citizen to say. The damage to her sponsors, to her father's campaign, could be huge! But how could she lie to Hector?

"I don't...like it. Come on, let's keep moving."

"Wait. So you—"

"My mother died of water sickness."

Hector was silent. Meri wondered if he, a boy from the inner District, even knew about water sickness. It was a strange disease that struck people who worked near the cliffs. There were theories as to the origin: poisonous coral, too much water and salts in the body, chemicals leaking from factories, water demons. It didn't really matter the cause. In the end, it led to sweating and vomiting and deliriousness. Meri had been young when her mother had gotten it. The thing that had struck her most about the whole time wasn't even the fact that her mother had been dying. It was that by the end, her mother was screaming in fear at things that weren't there, that she cried at memories that weren't hers, that she didn't even recognize Meri by the time she died.

Meri never wanted to die the way her mother did. She never wanted to lose her mind. She never wanted to die a slow death as she slowly lost bits of herself. She couldn't imagine not being able to recognize her father, Jaxon, Cain, even Hector! When she lay awake at night, she shuddered in fear at the things she couldn't remember, at the faces that would slip out of her memory if she let them! She couldn't let that happen to herself!

"We don't have to go to the water. Not if you don't want to."

"Don't coddle me. I know what we need to do. I'm not afraid to do it."

"Where do you think the river comes from, anyway?"

Rivers came from oceans or lakes or springs or in runoff from mountains. But this wasn't the real world, it was the Arena. "Probably nowhere. I bet they just filled it with water and resupply the lake whenever they want a boost to the river."

"So they could flood the river whenever they want to."

Meri snorted. "The Gamemakers could also open a hole in the ground and devour us. They could do anything. Doesn't mean they _will_." She was getting mean, she knew, but her head hurt and she was _hungry!_

"Hang on."

Hector pointed Meri to a tree maybe a hundred feet away. Something dangled in its branches. Meri recognized one of the traps that they had set. They had caught something! Hector dashed towards it, and Meri felt a moment of irrational panic that a spear would come spiraling through the woods and hit him as he ran. The thought burbled up in her: _Don't leave me._

Not that she'd ever say that.

* * *

Three cannons had gone off during the night, jolting Khol awake from his sleep. He was infinitely grateful that each cannon had not been his. He knew how easily he could have been one of the dead.

The Gamemakers said that each cannon was used only once. Zara's cannon, for instance, was only used for 3F25. Larya Murdock, the District 12 girl from two years ago, had gotten cannon 12F23. Still, Khol wondered if that was just a myth. It seemed wasteful to use each cannon once. Would it be saving resources to reuse cannons? Or was that just Khol's District 12 way of thinking? The Capitol could afford to be wasteful. Khol wondered which thought was more comforting. On one hand, having the same cannon as someone else gave him a feeling of solidarity. On the other hand, if he had his own cannon, didn't that mean that he was a more unique individual?

Did Khol even want to be unique? Individuality had never gotten him very far before.

He looked down at the knife in his hand. He was currently stalking through the summery woods, looking for food. He had set several small snares, but they hadn't been very helpful as of yet. The knife, too, had been unhelpful. Zara had died for this knife. And it still hadn't done anything for him! Khol heard Zara's angry voice: _You left me for_ that? _You killed me for that thing?_

 _I'm sorry!_ Khol wanted to scream. But he couldn't! Any show of weakness could mean his death! He glared down at the knife again. It shone at him, obnoxious and taunting. _You killed Zara. You and me. And Florence._

There was a whispering sound in the woods, as if they were agreeing with him. Khol glared at the ground around him and sped up. There was a sound from behind him, and he whipped around, knife at the ready. No one was there.

 _You've got to be kidding me_ — _I didn't sign up for some haunted-woods bullshit!_ Khol tried to ignore the fact that he hadn't signed up for anything. It was easier to pretend that he was in control in some small way. If he admitted that he wasn't in control, then he also had to admit that he might have been imagining everything. Khol's family had a long history of mental illness. Khol's father had complained of voices in his head before he had died. Khol had been hearing Zara's voice recently, and he was all too aware of the fact that it would be easy to crack completely in the Games.

"Anyone there?" Khol ventured in a flat voice. _Stay rational. Just stay rational._ He slowly backed away, his eyes darting around the trees. They were deciduous—oak, maple, maybe a few hazelnut. The day was summer, and so the leaves were all a brilliant green. It was a scene that slightly reminded him of the woods that surrounded District 12. It had been a scene that was slightly comforting.

Now, though—now the woods just seemed intimidating. The trunks of trees were ready to come alive and attack him. The leaves were poisonous and ready to kill. Every branch spoke of death. _It's good that this is scary! I was stupid to think that none of this was a threat!_

Out of the corner of his eye, Khol saw something shift. His eyes jumped to that point. Nothing. Something else moved! Khol looked in that direction. Nothing. Khol backed away as quickly as possible. _Am I going crazy?_

Two movements, on different sides. Two tree branches darted out, reaching for him. Khol turned and sprinted away. He dove to the ground, and knew that he was right to do so as the two branches slammed through the space where his head had been. They could have crushed his skull entirely! Khol pushed himself up, crawling forwards.

But the branches seemed to sense his movement, shooting downwards. Khol threw himself to the side. He didn't roll far enough, and one of the branches wrapped around his wrist. The other darted for his other wrist, and Khol wildly pinwheeled his arm to escape it, writhing around. He slammed the knife into the branch around his wrist, over and over, alternating the blows with quick movements to escape the second branch. The first branch was still dragging him back to the tree it belonged to, and Khol leaned backwards, trying to stop the movement. He dropped to his knees as the second branch attacked, and it went over his arm, only to smack into his chest. Khol yelped in pain, kicking upwards. By some miracle, his foot hit the branch, and though his toes stung, the branch jumped back.

 _It's like they're alive!_ The branches were elongated and moved like snakes, deadly and unearthly. Khol twisted, smashing the knife into the branch until it finally snapped. Khol shook his wrist until the leftover part of the branch fell off, and ran deeper into the woods.

One of the branches shot out in front of him and then turned back, and Khol spun out of the way, hitting another tree. The branch tried to circle the tree, and Khol pushed off of the tree and ran deeper into the woods. _Prairie,_ he thought to himself. _I have to get out of the forest._ But he was hopelessly turned around. He was too panicked to remember how to get to the lake and huge clearing.

He turned back and caught a glimpse of a branch following him. Khol tried to put on an extra burst of speed, but his lungs felt like they were going to explode. He gasped, trying to take in air— _run! Run! Why can't I run faster?!_ The branch was faster than it had any right to be, spiraling after him with a vengeance!

Khol felt his ankle twist—he had hit a branch on the forest floor— _why does it hurt this much?!_ He forced himself to keep running forward with his new limp, _why was I such an idiot?!_

Then he heard a snapping noise. He looked back and saw that the branch was no longer following him. It strained towards him, but couldn't get any closer. It must have hit the end of its range. Khol collapsed to the ground, gasping in pain, tears leaving his eyes.

His hand was still tightly clasped around the knife. Its blade was obviously blunted by the rough use against the tree branches, but Khol still clutched it like it was life itself. _Do I care about this knife more than I did about Zara?_ Khol rolled onto his back, staring up at the blue sky.

 _Get up, idiot,_ Zara's voice said.

Khol bitterly smiled at the cloudless sky. _Alright. I'll see what I can do._ The soft-packed dirt shifted under his weight, but Khol still managed to shove himself up. Every muscle in his body was screaming in pain. His ankle was sore. His lungs might as well have been nonexistent. _Get up, idiot._

Khol forced himself to start walking away.

* * *

 ** **D1: Paris Sapphire (1**** **7); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Talon Prime (18); Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri  
Ash, Adalicia

* * *

 ** **Authors' Notes:****

 **No deaths. Just boring character stuff. Sorry about that. I know that I say this a lot, but I really love all of these characters, and I want them to live for a little longer before I kill them all. I hope that everyone enjoyed the chapter. See you next update!**

 **Qotw: What's your favorite horror story?**


	33. The Illusion of Safety

**Day 4:**

Faustia had allowed them a day to recuperate, and currently, things weren't looking so good. Kaede had know from the start that they would become boring to the audience—their performance the night before hadn't been amazing, and they had killed some of the youngest people in the Arena. Kaede knew that his alliance had been counting on medicine from Paris's mentor to heal him. He wasn't doing well. He was obviously concussed, and each of his limbs was bruised up. Kaede just hoped that there wasn't internal damage.

Well, actually...Kaede wouldn't have wished death on Paris in another world. He didn't mind Paris. They might even have been friendly, if circumstances had allowed. But now...Paris was just a dead weight on their alliance. He was too hurt to do anything for them, and Faustia was insisting that they stayed by his side and coddle him, as if this _wasn't_ the Hunger Games. Her philosophies of loyalty were honorable, that was certain, but they were also downright stupid.

Kaede raised his eyes to the woods. He and Faustia were supposedly on watch right now, while Landon sat with Paris and tried to attend to some of his bruises and wounds with what little medicine that they had. Sadly, burn creams and bandages didn't work very well on internal injuries. Kaede knew that he should have been paying more attention to possible threats from the woods, but his attention was wandering. With his axe by his side and woods in front of him, it was almost a normal day back in District 7.

Kaede turned to the clearing where the lake lay. They had a good view of the lake from the Cornucopia. It would have been a bad decision for any Tribute to try and get to the lake. Even if they wouldn't be able to physically catch up with the Tribute, Faustia or Kaede would shoot them with one of their bow-and-arrow sets. Kaede couldn't deny that Faustia had contingency plans for nearly everything, even if some of her ideas seemed rather obvious. He shot a glance at her. She was facing away from him, watching the other edges of the woods that surrounded them. Her curly brown hair was pulled up into a tight braid. She sat straight and tall, the very image of a leader. Kaede envied that stance. He envied her ability. And at the same time, he hated it. He could do the same things! He had been a leader of a lumber troop since he was thirteen years old and hit puberty! Why wasn't he the one in charge?

He didn't sense the person coming up behind him until they said his name. "Kaede."

For a moment, Kaede almost expected to see Stefano there. But no, it was just Landon. Kaede hated the disappointment within himself. "Landon. Can I help you?"

"I think it's your turn to watch Paris."

Kaede gave a bitter smile. "Watch. That's a nice word for it."

Landon rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to say? Now it's your turn to go and pat his hand and pretend that he's not going to die?"

"Of course I don't expect you to say something like that. Lying is in your nature, right?"

Landon looked into Kaede's dark brown eyes. They were hard and impossible to comprehend. Was Kaede _trying_ to piss Landon off? Or was he just telling the truth? Landon was a liar, after all. He had gotten into the Games by spreading lies. Was he really going to sin someone for them calling him out?

"If you think that's true, then you should be scared," Landon finally replied.

Kaede shrugged. "I'm not scared of you. I'm not really scared of anyone here."

 _You're an idiot if you believe that,_ Landon thought. He himself was afraid of everyone and everything. It was what kept him alive. It wasn't debilitating, it just was a smart move for survival. Fear was what kept you alert. It was what kept you untrusting and ruthless and strong. "Well, all the more power to you, then."

"The Gamemakers, I suppose," Kaede said. He was aware that he had made a mistake. "I'm afraid of them. I _respect_ them, and what they do."

 _Don't be afraid to lay it on thick._ Landon gave Kaede a final nod and switched off with him. Kaede's footfalls as he walked away were softened by the grass of the Cornucopia plain. Landon sat on the ground, absentmindedly running his fingers through the grasses. They were rough on his fingers. It didn't take too much effort to pull them out. He stared at the prairie in front of him, watching the grasses gently sway. Coming from District 5, he was completely unused to the natural world. A lump rose in his throat as he appreciated the beauty of the world before him. A light breeze cooled his face, and Landon wished that Kira could be feeling this. He immediately shut down those thoughts, though. Thinking of Kira and his mother could only lead to weakness.

Kaede walked over to Paris. The boy from 1 was lying on the ground. They had made a makeshift pillow out of some spare clothing. There were no wounds to bandage. Blunt force was hard to deal with without better medicines. But he wasn't coughing up blood anymore, so that was good.

"You good?" Kaede asked Paris. He knew that the answer would be a lie, whatever it was.

Paris gave a small nod, letting out a sigh. "Sorry. It hurts to talk."

"Understood. I won't make you." Kaede didn't know why they were putting so much effort into taking care of him. Paris had unchanging, horrific bruises covering his body. His stomach and arms especially were almost purple. Kaede had seen this happen before, but that had been when a tree had fallen on a worker and the worker had been partially crushed. He shivered to think about what Percival had done. How had he gotten so strong? Had it been a sponsor gift? Or something in the water? _We killed him,_ Kaede reminded himself.

He turned his thoughts back to Paris. Kaede had no doubt that he _could_ survive, but not without some serious cost to his alliance. Internal injury needed a hospital, right? Faustia had mentioned that in District 2, they treated internal injury but cutting open tissue and then stopping the bleeding with heat or suture material. Could they do that in the Arena, without any real equipment? _Why would we want to?_ It wouldn't be long before the Careers were boring and the Capitol wanted to do away with them. Kaede didn't let himself glance at Landon, but he was glad to know that he had another alliance waiting in the wings.

He spent the next hour or so putting bruise cream on the more minor bruises. Paris tried to be helpful, but Kaede could tell that Paris knew what he was thinking.

Kaede glanced over at Faustia. What was _she_ thinking? Did she really think that it was a good idea to hang around Paris? Their supplies were going to run out soon. They were getting boring. And winter was on its way.

* * *

Fiori hadn't been expecting to come across Zoe again. She had thought that when she and Zoe said goodbye to each other, their time together would never occur again. It seemed almost unfair that she was running into Zoe, actually. _It's just another stupid ploy to get me to kill someone. Nice fucking. try!_

Luckily, they weren't exactly running into each other. Fiori had managed to get into a tree, where she had stayed for the last fourteen hours or so. Her traps had been catching small game, so she was eating fine, and she had made a small canopy for her fire with her jacket, which kept most of the smoke from escaping. The eye-watering smell of smoke in her jacket was a small price to pay. Fiori had spotted Adalicia and Khol moving through the woods and different points, but she had no interest in interacting with them. Yes, she had weapons, but she wasn't going to use them to kill anyone.

Fiori wondered if Zoe would give her the same courtesy if they came face to face, on the ground. If Zoe would just wave her by, and if they could pass each other with no issues. _Probably not._ Zoe had her two long silver knives drawn already, and Fiori knew that Zoe would kill her without hesitation. Fiori respected Zoe. Fiori knew that the girl had a hard past. But it wasn't difficult to admit that Zoe was kind of a bitch. Fiori wondered if Zoe was hunting other Tributes.

 _No, right? Zoe wouldn't go that far. She's not a fucking Career._ Fiori glared down at Zoe, who was almost out of her line of sight. _I swear to Capitol, Winter, if you're_ trying _to kill people then I'm going to have a bone to pick._

Fiori considered the phrase "swear to Capitol." Since she hated the Capitol, wasn't it strange that she treated them like such an authority? _Well, they_ are _an authority. It'd be stupid to deny it._ But her mother said that the phrase used to be different, that people used to pray to strange gods, like Zara had, like some people in District 10 still did.

 _Well, that would be the best way to annoy the Capitol, right? The best act of rebellion is to force them to admit that there's something higher than them._ Not that Fiori had any interest in gods. She didn't want anyone but herself—and perhaps her mother—to have control over her life!

 _Okay. So I'll swear to chickens. "Oh my chicken" might not sound great, but I'll take fucking_ anything _over "oh my Capitol."_

* * *

"Hello," Florence repeated.

She had been saying the word to the forest behind her for over an hour. She knew that someone was out there. Florence had lots of experience hiding in the woods and watching people. She knew when someone was doing the same thing to her.

Florence imagined Cassie, at home, watching her older sister being stalked. Florence pulled out Draven's picture and kissed it, before singing a few words. "Ring around the rosy…"

It was an old nursery rhyme, archaic, so old that no one knew where it had come from. A pre-Panem society, definitely. It might even have been one of the oldest things in existence in Panem, predating pre-Dark Days literature and all of the ruins. A strange thought. "Ashes, ashes...we all...fall...down."

The air shifted.

Florence flipped into action.

She had lost her knife. And her prep team had filed down her fingernails. But after a few days in the Arena, she had managed to file her nails back into spikes, and she could still take down an untrained opponent.

 _Fuck. Talon._ Okay. Forget defeating him. Florence just had to survive. He could probably outrun her, too. _Alright. I can do this._

It dawned on Talon as he looked at Florence that she was around the same height as Emily. Not much other resemblance, but it would be enough. Capitol, killing _anything_ would be enough! Talon had written his anger out on the corpses of deer and rabbits. None of it was enough! But a human—killing another human—

Talon pulled out his sword and charged at Florence. She lightly dodged out of the way, going left, but he spun so that he was facing her again and made a wild swipe. Again, she jumped out of the way, but only slightly. Talon laughed, taking a leap forward and swinging. She ducked, but his sword skidded against the edge of her braid. He swung down, and she somersaulted out of the way, dirt and dead leaves getting stuck in her hair. He brought his sword down, and she jerked her head out of the way, the blade stabbing the ground where her head had been. Florence hissed, kicking the sword so that the sole of her shoe hit it. Talon stumbled forward, following the sword, and Florence threw herself into his legs.

He tripped over her, slamming into the ground, gasping as his own sword slashed into him. "Fuck!"

He heard Florence laughing behind him and knew that his suspicions had been true. Florence wasn't an innocent girl from 9. She was completely insane. Probably crazier than he was. But what did that matter? Talon's lips curled into a smile. He was the stronger one. And that was all that was important!

There was blood pulsing out of his arm. Talon ignored it, lifting the sword again. He was over a foot taller than Florence was, and she had the temerity to grin at him as if they were play-fighting! She took him in, and her smile got wider. "Fun!"

"Yeah, fun," Talon muttered. "So how do you want to die?"

Florence just laughed derisively. _I'm never going to die, asshole!_ She jumped at him. Startled, Talon took a step backwards, his sword briefly not covering his front. Florence clawed Talon up and down the face with her fingernails. He yelled, and Florence felt the _glorious_ feeling of flesh scraping off under her hands, but his eyes were closed, so she didn't blind him. Her nails left bloody strips up and down his face—

Talon hadn't been expecting Florence to leap at him, but when she had, his non-sword arm had been by his stomach. She had trapped his arm next to his stomach. Now, Talon punched outwards with it. The force of the blow forced Florence to let go of him with her legs. She was clearly winded. But she hung on with her fingernails, and he shouted in pain as her weight dragged both of them to the ground. She just wouldn't let go! That bitch! Talon punched again, dropping his sword. On the ground, there was no way that she could win. He was heavier and stronger and he wrestled her to the ground, getting one of his hands around her throat. He held it there for a moment. Her neck was warm, and he could feel her writhing as she tried to suck in air.

But it was so _unsatisfying._ Talon laughed, letting go of her, and as she gladly took in oxygen he drew back and punched her in the face. He felt something crack and she screamed in pain and now her face and his hand were covered in _blood_ —it was _glorious_ —he punched again, this time to her temple, and she yelled.

Florence knew that she had made a mistake. She desperately tried to unseat him, and when that didn't work, she tried to catch his next punch. She missed, and his fist hit her throat, sending sparks of agony through her. She lay there for a moment, unable to breathe— _is this what being dead feels like_ —but then she got her senses about her. _No. I don't die like this!_ She blocked his next blow with her open hand. The force drove her hand back so that it covered her mouth— _smothered by my own hand, great!_ —but she closed her fist. She could feel her nails digging into his skin. _Come on! Come_ on! _Why won't you just give up!_

Talon pushed his hand out to the side in one deft movement. His arms were longer than hers, and due to the new scream she made, Talon wondered if he had dislocated something. He found his sword, gently tracing a star into her skin. She winced, but didn't scream, and he laughed. "You're strong now, huh?"

She was still writhing, and he carved the star deeper in. She let out a low sob, and he laughed. "See? Was that so hard?"

"Fuck you!"

Talon just laughed. Florence flinched as he drew back his sword—

And then there was—blood—Talon collapsed— _why is his head over there?!_ Florence gagged, shuddering and rolling over as Talon's headless corpse fell to the side. _What_ — _how_ —

Kronos watched his District partner as she retched. He took a few small steps back, not wanting the blood that was getting everywhere to get on him...or rather, on him more than it actually was. He looked away, trying to focus on the knots and bumps on one of the trees that surrounded them. His stomach felt strange. The smell of blood was making his eyes water.

So. He had killed someone. He didn't know what to think. He hadn't expected it to be satisfying, it was just something that had to be done. Kronos wasn't going to let himself die, nor was he going to let Talon torture a girl to death, no matter who the girl was. But there was a strange feeling of...emptiness within him. Bile rose in his throat. _What did I just do?!_

"Well?"

Kronos looked back at Florence as she growled the word at him. She was covered in blood and clearly in pain, and yet she was still glaring at him. She probably knew that he wasn't the type to be merciful to the weak. If someone was weak, you just had to put them out of their misery.

"Well."

"Kill me, asshole. Or try."

The emptiness within Kronos suddenly ripped into pain and then flashed back into nothing. He stared at Florence, his rationality momentarily gone, and wondered if she somehow had the power to hurt him without touching him. She was a _monster._

But then again, so was he.

 _It's her eyes,_ Kronos realized. Her blue eyes were lighter than Sarah's had been, but they had the same snap, the same fire, the same anger and light and life. For a moment, the emptiness became a strange feeling of loneliness. Kronos gripped his token before slipping it back into his pocket.

"You know, I doubt I could have killed Talon without him being distracted," Kronos said.

Florence watched her District partner, wondering about how to kill him. His scythe would be near impossible to get past. She knew that she couldn't take him down in this condition. And yet, playing the nice girl wouldn't help her. She would have to put on a completely different persona and hope that he didn't hate it. "Well, I'm glad to help, I guess." She said it plainly, but with a bit of a sarcastic lilt to it.

"And it's safer to have a group."

"Not really."

(' _It's safer to be inside before dark,'_ Kronos had reminded Sarah when they had first met five years ago.

' _Not really,_ " Sarah had responded.)

The emptiness turned to pain and then emptiness once more. Kronos considered Florence. "You're not going to survive without help."

"I realize that. And that's why I'm hoping that you'll…" what? What could Florence say?

Luckily, Kronos simply nodded at her. He stepped over Talon's body, and the two of them awkwardly walked into the woods, Kronos putting his scythe away.

Florence knew that she had to recuperate. She didn't trust Kronos. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had killed him. But she was bleeding heavily and every fiber of her body hurt. She had to take whatever help came to her.

Kronos wasn't planning on winning. If it came down to him and another contestant, Kronos hadn't planned on fighting them in the first place. _Florence and Sarah are different,_ he reminded himself. Still, if he couldn't win, then why not try to stop Florence from dying? At least in the near future.

 _Life is bullshit. Death is bullshit too. Sometimes, you just have to throw away all of your logic._ Kronos snorted at the thought.

* * *

Midas had some food in his backpack. He had a knife. That was why it made no sense that a sponsor gift was floating down from the sky. He checked the trees around him once more to make sure that there was no one else near him. As the parachute got closer, an '8' became clear on it. Midas grabbed it out of the air and opened the small box.

Inside of it lay a set of knives. The six of them glimmered in the sunlight. Alongside it were two packs of crackers. Midas should have been happy about the gift. But Ned had warned him that when the sponsor money stopped rolling in, he would send a gift that would let Midas know how much he could count on for the rest of the Games. _Six and two. That's not good. Sixty-two? Or twenty-six?_

So the tables had turned. People didn't like him anymore. He had had them eating out of his hand during the interview, and yet people didn't like him anymore! When he had been part of an alliance, they could count on money. People seemed to have enjoyed the dynamic of all of them working together. But now that the alliance was over, had people really fallen out of love with Midas?

 _It's because of what I did._ The thought chilled him to the bone. _Just like how Faustia wanted to kill me for manipulating those kids, the audience doesn't want me to succeed._ He swallowed hard. What were the Gamemakers thinking? Were they irritated that he had tried being a master manipulator when they were supposed to be the ones in charge? _What was I thinking? Did I think that everything would be okay after the kids died?_

Actions had consequences. Of course Midas knew that! But...they weren't supposed to have consequences on him! Midas had grown up being punished whenever his father perceived him as doing something wrong. But all of that had just helped Midas grow. Here, there was no growth. It was do or die.

A sound came from the woods—a wolf howl. Midas jumped. Quickly, he packed up his knives and started moving again. He had to get away from here.

* * *

 ** **D1: Paris Sapphire (1**** **7); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D8: Midas Redglove (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri  
Ash, Adalicia  
Florence, Kronos

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Talon:** Talon was an amazing character. His backstory was amazing, his personality was perfect for the Games, and his physical strength was terrifying. I loved having him in the Games, and he definitely could have gone on much farther, maybe even winning. However, it just wasn't meant to be. Someone had to die this chapter, and sadly, it was him. He wasn't developed nearly enough and he should have received much more screentime, and I'm really sad to see him go. RIP Talon. (Or don't, actually, you were pretty despicable.) Thanks so much to _Golden Moon Huntress._

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **Other names this chapter could have had: "Drama at the Cornucopia," "Fiori's Failed Friendship," "A Death That Didn't Need to be That Gory," "Kronos's Ex-Girlfriend/Weird Friend Person Makes a Reappearance," and "Midas has a Midlife Crisis." But, you know...this ain't a comedy. Most importantly, though..."oh my chicken" is now a thing. It's my proudest moment as a writer. *Wipes tear from eye***

 **QotW: On a scale of 1 to 10, how much gore can you take?**


	34. Before the Rainbow

**Day 4:**

"Just twelve hours of summer, and I'm already for it to be over," Ash complained.

Adalicia just sighed, dabbing more itch cream on Ash's bug bites. "You realize that it's not going to get better once fall comes."

"Yeah. But at least the weather won't be like this." As afternoon had set in, the day had become horribly muggy, the air thick and hot and hard to breathe in. Adalicia had never experienced anything like it before. "And there won't be bugs. I _hate_ bugs."

"And you say that _I'm_ the child." The two of them had been attacked by a swarm of bugs. Adalicia had remained calm, for the most part, and buffeted her way through them until she had made it out of the swarm. Ash had gone completely berserk, screaming and swatting. Adalicia understood why. The bugs had been like mosquitos, but bigger and with more bulgy eyes. Adalicia was afraid to close her eyes now, knowing that when she did, she'd just see the bugs. Her skin, too, was crawling, as if there were still bugs all over her. Ash had come off worse, though, covered in itchy bites. Luckily, his mentor had sent some itch reliever.

"Were you the tomboy that loved playing with spiders and ants?" Ash asked.

Adalicia snorted. "Where the fuck did you get that idea? I _hate_ bugs." Especially spiders. Whenever Adalicia spotted a spider spinning a web somewhere in the woods, she got a mild heart attack. Luckily, Ash was taller than her and broke the spiderwebs so that Adalicia didn't accidentally walk into them. "When I was little, I liked them."

"Little? Aren't you _still_ little?"

"Shut up!" Adalicia stopped applying the itch cream. "Do you want me to put medicine on these bites or not?"

Ash snorted. "I'm just saying."

"And _I'm_ just saying that _normal_ people can manage to apply cream on their back. Are your arms just freakishly short or something?"

"Whoa. Insulting my arms. You're really pulling no punches, huh?"

"Since your philosophy seems to be pointing out every bad thing in the world and talking about it, I'm just trying to follow your example. You know. Since you're so much _bigger_ than me, you're my new role model."

Ash winced. He was almost glad that he didn't have any younger siblings, because he would have been the world's worst older brother. The very idea of spending time with younger children always made him nervous, partly because they were just so _breakable,_ and partly because he knew that they would observe something he did and repeat it. Older people were easier to deal with, more predictable. If they were teenagers, they wanted a fight. If they were adults, they wanted to insult him. In both cases, Ash knew how to deal with it, how to fight back. "Should I worry about your big brother getting jealous?"

"Probably. He's a lot bigger than you, you know." Adalicia tried to keep her voice light and breezy. She knew that Ash wasn't hanging around her because she was an innocent little girl, like Midas had been doing. She appreciated that Ash didn't mind sarcasm and passing insults back and forth. But discussing people outside of the Arena...that was taboo. It made you think about what you were fighting to get back to. If Adalicia thought too much about Vasyklo, then she would remember that she needed to kill Ash to get back to him. If she thought too much about Ash and Vasyklo spending time together, her thoughts naturally went to a world where she was dead and where Vasyklo was beating Ash up on his Victory Tour.

"Yeah, well, a lot of people are bigger than me," Ash replied. Adalicia was barely six inches shorter than him. Ash knew that he was shorter than average, and that hadn't ever stopped him from winning fights. "But my boyfriend Robin is probably taller than your brother. That's who your brother needs to be afraid of."

"Tell me about the two of you." Ash was surprised by how wistful Adalicia's voice was.

"What? Are you jealous?"

"Of what?"

"Of my stunning ability to attract other people, and then maintain a relationship with them."

"I'd rather have friends, honestly."

Well, that hurt. "Are you saying that I don't have friends?"

"Why would I say that? I don't know anything about you. Maybe you're the most popular person in District Two."

Ash burst out laughing, and Adalicia started laughing a moment after him. "Okay. Maybe that was too mean."

Ash shrugged. "Nothing's _too_ mean."

"I don't know," Adalicia objected. "I think there's a reasonable limit. Like, at some point, you're just going too far."

"And where is this point?"

Adalicia shrugged. She had a million things that she could say to him that would have been going too far. But she'd never voice them. It was too dangerous, and like Adalicia had told him, there were some things that simply weren't decent. Others, though... "If I just started swearing. Crap, fuck, fuck…"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ash continued, taking up the chant.

For a few minutes, as Adalicia finished putting medicine on Ash's bites, the two of them repeated "fuck" over and over. Adalicia was surprised to find that she was enjoying herself. Vasyklo was one of her best friends, and she would never wish for another older brother, but he did often treat her like she needed to be protected. Ash didn't do that. He expected her to pull her own weight and act like an adult. It meant that responsibility that she didn't have before was crushing her. But at the same time, it was strangely liberating.

Ash, too, was surprised to find that he didn't mind spending time with Adalicia. She was surprisingly sarcastic, and not at all awful to be around. He was used to being around people who were constantly evaluating and judging him. Adalicia just took him as he was and didn't bother being disappointed with everything about him. Or, if she was, she hid it well.

Something hit him on the head, and he looked up. It was starting to rain. The heat was finally breaking.

* * *

Something hit Kaede on the head. He looked up. The dark grey sky was dropping water. Some more hit him on the head, and it took real effort to stop himself from screaming. Landon felt a few drops of cold water hit his arms and pulled on his jacket, internally groaning. Faustia felt the rain and didn't let a reaction show. The weather was the least of her worries. As the leader of the Careers, she could absolutely _not_ show any weakness. Paris felt it and tried to push himself up, a sense of dread going through him to join the pain.

"Let's set up the tents," Landon finally called across the clearing. Faustia nodded, and she and Landon set up a small canopy around Paris before setting up tents for themselves. There were two tents in the Cornucopia, both seeming waterproof enough to get them through the autumn night. Faustia was glad for them. She was getting soaked, and though the sun was still out, she knew that when night finally came, it would be miserable.

"You good, Paris?" she asked.

Paris forced himself to nod. Every particle of his body ached, and it hurt to move. He could taste blood in his mouth and knew that his internal situation hadn't righted itself. But what else could he say?

"Come on. Let's move you into the tent." Faustia internally cringed. Her words had been so...condescending. So motherly. It wasn't her job to baby Paris! If he was going to die, he was going to die! She had to stop being so nice! This had never been a problem while she had been training, but then again, training had never told her how to deal with a dying ally? Was Faustia supposed to slit his throat, like you did with an injured horse? Or nurse him back to health, like you did with, well, _humans?_ And as awful as those options were, how were any of the in-between choices any better? Faustia wasn't an idiot. She knew that Landon and Kaede were getting fed up with caring for Paris. Capitol, she was too! But she couldn't just _leave_ him! He was a part of her alliance. He was her responsibility. Ash and Fiori and whoever else could pretend that Career training was just building monsters and butchers, but it taught so much more than fighting and survival. It taught the main tenet of life in Panem: loyalty. Loyalty to the Capitol, and though no one explicitly stated it, equally as important was loyalty and basic decency to your allies and peers.

Faustia hadn't been expecting the Games to be easy. But she almost wished that they would be attacked by mutts. At least she knew how to deal with that situation.

Kaede rooted through the dark, damp, dubious-smelling Cornucopia until he found a rain jacket. The slicker was an ugly shade of grey-green, but it kept him safe from the rain. He closed his eyes for a moment, smelling the air. The stale smell of rain on dry earth, the fresh scent of the air as it was cooled by the rain, the way that the woods smelled slightly smoky...it all reminded him of District 7, of how when the rain started, he and his troop would don their Mitchell Co. provided rain jackets and head out.

"Kaede? Where are you?"

The voice was Faustia's, and Kaede felt irritation. He _hated_ being at the beck and call of someone else. In District 7, he had been bossed around by his father and other executives, of course, but...that was different. There was no reason that Faustia should be in charge rather than him. But he kept his face neutral and went back out. "Here. Sorry."

"No problem," Faustia said, but her eyes read, ' _problem.'_ "There's two tents, four of us. Who do you want to share with?" Faustia didn't want to let him choose. He and Landon were plotting something, Faustia knew it, and she didn't want to give them extra time to do it. But she wasn't oblivious to the fact that Kaede was disgruntled, and she wanted to give him the illusion of control. Besides, the idea of sharing a tent with Kaede wasn't a good one. She wasn't afraid of sharing a tent with the opposite gender, training in District 2 had taught her to overcome those inhibitions, but she had a nasty feeling that Kaede might slit her throat as she slept. _Which would be a bad move on his part, really. He needs me to defeat Mist._ The thought was slightly reassuring but mostly worrying.

Kaede made eye contact with Landon, who nodded. "Landon and I can share, if you're okay with taking care of Paris." Kaede didn't want to make Faustia any more attached to the cause of taking care of Paris rather than leaving the dead weight behind, but he also didn't want to share a tent with Paris either, never mind the idea of staying with Faustia. _This alliance has really outworn its use, hasn't it?_ A crack of thunder sounded overhead, and the rain poured down in sheets. Kaede couldn't stop himself from groaning. This infernal mud would be the death of him!

Landon quietly observed the rest of his alliance. He knew that he needed to set up the possibility of an alliance with Faustia, even if he put most of his stock with Kaede. Landon knew the importance of putting your eggs in multiple baskets. He walked through the muddy, sticky ground to the Cornucopia and stepped inside. Thankfully, it was dry. He was completely unused to rain and mud, coming from industrialized District 5. He found that he didn't really mind it. The sound of rain hammering on the Cornucopia was almost pleasant, especially compared to the clatter of factories and machines.

He put four knives into his belt, two on either side, and filled up his backpack with two more knives and nonperishable supplies, leaving it light enough for him to run with. He wanted to be prepared for the moment when they broke apart. He wondered if he should do anything to speed up the fracturing of the Career alliance, and decided against it. What was there for him to do, anyway? Kaede and Faustia would naturally come up against each other without his goading. There were no rumors to spread that could hurt either of them. There was only the cold, hard truth: they were hateful and fearful towards each other. Landon wondered if he should convince Paris that he was going to be left behind, but again decided against it. It wouldn't gain him anything, as Paris wasn't in the position to turn into a berserker and kill any of them, and Paris probably would have noticed it already.

What a strange position to be in, where the truth was already more poisonous than any lies Landon could make up! It was a weird feeling, almost as if Landon had lost part of his identity. If he wasn't the poisoner, the liar, then who was he? What could he do?

Meanwhile, Paris lay on the inside of a tent. The rain pattered down hard on the top of it, and while he was dry, water was soaking through the ground corners of the tent in muddy streaks. Luckily, none of Paris's blood was on the floor of the tent yet. _No, it's all inside my fucking body! Just not where it should be!_ Paris coughed a little, and was relieved to see that no blood had been hacked up. It was really amazing, the number of things that could go wrong with a human body. _Take a few hits, and you're down for the count. A sharp thing maybe tears a little bit of your skin, and suddenly you're dying._ Humans really were strange.

Even stranger in their behaviors. If Paris had been the leader of the alliance, he would have left himself behind already. Not that he was exactly complaining. Sure, constant pain was annoying, but he would much rather be alive than dead.

The thought chilled him. Would there come a time when death was preferable?

 _Not yet. I guess I better pace myself._ The thought almost made him smile. Luca always warned him to pace himself. If he was hating Mark too much, he had to pace himself and save some of his hate. If he was feeling too much pain, he had to save some of the pain for a later date. In a strange way, Mark's constant bullying was helping him now. It was making it easier to deal with the pain. _I still hate you, though,_ Paris thought to his dead older brother. _I'll hate you forever._

* * *

Midas knew, as the rain poured down on him, that he was on his own. Every action for the past few hours had just been another nail in the coffin of the truth that the Gamemakers were mad at him. Midas couldn't fully understand why. He had put on a good show, and the Gamemakers really had no place to get all moralistic and angry at the fact that Midas had manipulated people. _I suppose that's just privilege, though. When you're rich enough, detached enough, you start to forget what hypocrisy is. You stop being able to see patterns in behavior, common behaviors, even destructive behaviors._ Maybe it was the fact that he had tried being nice. Being nice in the Games was the worst thing that you could do.

He pulled his jacket back up over his head. The raindrops were large and cold, but the day was still fairly hot. It made for an annoying combination, but Midas had decided just to try and keep his head dry. _A raincoat might be nice, Ned. Though I suppose I should remember that you aren't able to send it to me._ He briefly wondered if Ned was angry at him for what had happened to Jeanna, but pushed the thought away. He knew that Ned understood that selfishness was necessary to survive in the Games. _And there's a fine line between selfishness and self-preservation. When it's kill or be killed, every action is arguably necessary, no matter how objectively evil it might seem. But I'm getting nihilistic, aren't I? I suppose that I should be thinking good thoughts. Rainbows. Sunshine_ —

He yanked out his knife as something darted over his head. A lot of somethings, actually. A flock of birds were circling the sky above the trees where he was standing. There were four of them. He couldn't make out any of their actual features, just their silhouettes. They blocked the sun.

 _Can they get to me?_ One of them had definitely dived past his face. Midas gently padded through the woods, trying to get away from the flock. He kept his face turned skyward, despite the rain pattering down on his face (the falling rain made him feel like he was moving through the sky). The birds were moving with him. He shuddered, keeping his mouth shut. Who knew what would set them off?

Carefully, carefully, he moved forward

Midas didn't have time to wince. One of the birds dove straight down. Midas dove out of the way, and the bird turned up just above the ground. It was huge, at least the size of Midas's upper body. Midas didn't waste time, pulling out one of his knives and throwing it. It slammed into the bird's wing, but the bird didn't react very much, haphazardly going back up. Midas let out a breath.

Mistake. Two of the birds dove downward. _Front_ — _back_ — _no_ —Midas ungracefully fell sideways, scratching up his arm, and covering himself in mud, but it saved his life. If he had gone forwards to escape one of the mutts, the other would have hit him instead. _How sharp are those beaks?_ Midas didn't need to wait to find out, as one of the birds zoomed towards him—moving utterly unlike most birds usually did. Midas rolled out of the way, throwing a second knife. This one went into the bird's side, but Midas's shoulder erupted into pain

The other bird had flown into him. Its beak had punctured Midas's shoulder— _and the bird was attached to him_! Midas panicked, writhing and trying to rip the bird away from him. It finally got away, going with a spray of blood. Midas drew another knife, but not before the other two birds dive-bombed him. Midas made the split-second decision to draw his limbs in close to his body.

The choice saved his life. The other two birds smacked into the ground this time, their beaks driving perfect conical holes into the mud. Midas lashed out with the knive, cutting open the throat of one of the birds, but the other bit his arm. Midas screamed. _Fuck these demon bird-alligator things!_

He pushed it off, but that was when he felt something bite into both of his shoulders, and then he was being dragged off of the ground. His body exploded into pain, and for a moment, he wondered if his arms would be pulled off by the bird lifting him. He struck upwards, cutting the belly of the bird, but it didn't react. A second bird joined it, and the two of them carried Midas into the sky.

"Stop! Stop it!" Midas yelled, before regaining control of himself. _I'm a Redglove! I don't scream!_ But being a Redglove wouldn't help him now! Capitol, why had he thought that he could win this?!

The birds were going higher and higher, and Midas stopped trying to attack them. He couldn't fall. They were far above the trees now. Midas could see small dots moving. There were tents on the Cornucopia plain. The lake was dark and churning. The river that led away from it seemed to be going faster than usual. Wind, cold, biting wind, whipped past Midas's face. It burned. Midas shook in cold and in fear. The rain that hit him felt like little bullets.

And then the birds let go of his arms.

Midas couldn't stop himself from screaming in fear—

* * *

A cannon fired.

 _That could have been you,_ Khol thought, and was relieved that the thought was in his own voice. He carefully skinned the rabbit and poked the coals of his fire again. He didn't want to have very much smoke, so he kept his fire small. Unfortunately, the rain was coming down hard enough to make keeping the fire alive a serious challenge. Still, Khol was hungry, and he couldn't eat raw rabbit. Isadora always warned him that eating raw rabbit would give him rabbit fever.

Thinking of Isadora just made him more and more homesick. He had never told his friend how much he cared about her. He wondered if she would have liked him back if he had just admitted what a crush he had on her.

 _You'll never know,_ Zara's voice snapped. _Why bother thinking about it?_

 _Well, what else should I think about? What a freak I am? How most people would be happy if I just died?_

 _Wow, there you go again, wallowing in self-pity. You're_ alive, _you jerk! Act like it!_

 _How exactly does one act alive?_

Zara's voice was silent, either because he had stumped her or because his fantasy had finally fled. Khol was relieved, but a little disappointed. He liked the feeling of having a companion, even though he knew it meant he was crazy. _Well, maybe not crazy. Eccentric? Lonely? Or maybe just grieving._ When Khol's father had died, he sometimes imagined that the man was still alive, just quietly cleaning his boots by the stove like he had in life.

 _Aw, isn't that cute? You miss me._ The voice was slightly proud, a bit happy. Khol wondered if Zara would have been happy to know that he missed her.

 _Of course I'm happy. This probably means that our friendship was_ for real. _Or something. Does it look like I know?_

Khol wanted to scream, _shut up!_ Or _leave me alone!_ But he couldn't. He didn't have the courage to be alone, or to say goodbye.

* * *

Mist swung her mace. It smashed into a nearby tree, which let out a groan. Mist sighed and raised the weapon again. The good thing about the rain was that the muddy ground made stealth hard. For Mist, that wasn't much of a problem. She was good at hiding in the shadows when needed, but she was also good at being up-front about fighting and stabbing anyone that got in her way. The rain just allowed her advance warning of where her enemies were.

A shadow shifted, and Mist swung around, slamming the mace into another tree. A hail of rain dropped from the leaves with the force of it, and Mist laughed, exhilarated, as she was soaked to the bone. She rested her mace on her shoulder, surveying the woods as cold rain dripped down her face and off of the edge of her nose, wiping her cheek clear of water. Mist hated it when water dripped down her scar.

Zoe watched Mist from behind a tree. She knew that to kill Mist, she had to be sneaky. She couldn't defeat the girl from 11 in face-to-face combat. Mist laughed, and Zoe was disturbed by how _young_ the laugh sounded. It wasn't a wicked cackle, more of a giggle that a little girl would give in the rain. _Stop it,_ Zoe warned herself, pinching her own arm. _Get it together, Winter._

She drew her arm back and whipped one of her knives forward—but her hands were wet, and the throw was botched. Zoe gasped as the silvery weapon glinted through the air, and then Zoe heard a scream.

But Mist turned around, moving forward with unnerving speed. Zoe only just managed to dive out of the way, grabbing Mist's shoulder and using it to keep balanced as the mud sucked at her feet. She used Mist's momentum against her, shoving the bigger girl forward. Dragged by the weight of her mace and her forward motion, Mist stumbled forward into a tree. Zoe's knife was in her back, but not deep enough to kill. Zoe threw a second knife, but Mist spun around, and it bounced off of Mist's mace into the mud. Mist snorted in laughter, charging Zoe. Zoe slipped on the mud as Mist brought the mace down, slamming her in the shoulder.

Zoe screamed, but she was _not going to die like this!_ She grabbed the mace, pulling Mist down beside her and drawing a second knife. She couldn't get any traction on the mud, but she stabbed out at Mist. Mist roared in anger, pulling her single tiny knife out of her belt and stabbing Zoe in the shoulder. She ripped the knife out, stabbing Zoe in the stomach—

But Zoe kneed Mist in the gut, and Mist rolled off of her, groaning. Zoe couldn't tell whether her face was wet with tears or rain— _it's rain! Fuckdammit, it's rain!_ She pushed herself off and sprinted into the woods, feeling like she would trip and fall and never stop falling.

 _I failed! I'm a fucking idiot!_ But it was rain on her face! It _wasn't_ tears! Zoe might have been an idiot, but this was _not_ the end.

Mist laughed as she pushed herself out of the bloody mud, rain pounding down on her back. She couldn't see more than two feet in front of her. This was _not_ the end. By the end of these Games, _nothing_ would be able to hold Mist down, not Zoe or Faustia or the Gamemakers, _nothing!_ Zoe Winter had just painted a huge target on her back.

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (1** **7); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Paris, Landon, Kaede  
Hector, Meri  
Ash, Adalicia  
Florence, Kronos

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Midas:** I didn't write Midas as well as I should have. His profile had him as a very charismatic person, very witty, very confident and good at sweet-talking people, and I did an absolutely horrible job of showing that. Despite my botching of the character, though, I think that he managed to come across as a smart, confident, chessmaster-type person. He absolutely had it in him to win. He could have easily jumped from alliance to alliance and made it to the end, but unfortunately, he didn't. RIP, Midas. Thanks to _GalacticCoach._

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:**

 **This chapter wasn't very good, I know, but thanks for sticking with it.**

 **QotW: Favorite book?**


	35. Those We Leave Behind

**Night 4:**

The seal of Panem was blurred through the rain, but the sky was fairly cloudless, and the anthem cut through loud and clear. Florence sighed as rain dripped down the edges of their shelter. They hadn't been able to build a fire, and it was fairly freezing. Florence knew that the rain would eventually turn to snow, and she wasn't looking forward to that.

The faces of Midas and Talon flashed across the sky, and Florence couldn't stop herself from grinning as she saw the face. It wasn't as good as if she had gotten an actual kill, but, well—Talon's blood was speckled on her hands and clothes, and that would have to be enough.

"We're not going to have a fire, are we." Kronos's voice was flat, and Florence's internal sensors went crazy. Her strength with him lay in controlling him. She knew that Kronos thought of Sarah, the other girl that he knew from District 9, when he saw her. But how to use that? How did Florence do this without fucking up royally?

"I doubt it," Florence said, keeping her tone dry with a hint of sarcasm. The childish tones she usually used to mess with people wouldn't work now. If only she had known Sarah! If only she knew _anything_ about Kronos other than that he had a bad father, about one friend, a knack for picking fights with Peacekeepers and other children, and a dangerous habit of torturing small animals. When the Quell twist had been announced, talk had started of picking him, and if anything, he had encouraged it. Her only sense of him was that he was simply bored with everything and wanted a thrill.

Kronos simply sighed in response, pulling his jacket closer. It was warm enough within the padded coat. The Gamemakers had been fairly nice to them so far. It was strange, actually. "Well, do you want first watch?"

"Why would you ever trust me to keep watch?"

"I think we're in mutual agreement that we can't trust each other, right? As long as we've got that out of the way, I'd rather sleep with mild panic about not waking up rather than not be able to fight you in the morning."

Florence laughed. She didn't plan on killing him. She needed him. But if she wanted to be able to manipulate him, she needed him to trust her. "I guess your logic isn't _too_ flawed."

"Any plan that involves trusting you is flawed."

"I can't deny that. But I guess you got yourself into this mess."

"Feel free to run away in the night."

Florence giggled before stopping herself. Kronos wasn't Cassie. Nothing would terrify Cassie more than knowing that Florence was following her through darkened woods. Kronos needed to believe that they were allies. "You're out of luck."

Kronos sighed again, lying down. "Think we can add anyone to the sky tomorrow?" Florence asked him.

"I don't know." Kronos pushed some more leaves together, making a pillow. He rested his hand on his scythe. He wanted to be ready to kill if he needed to.

Something shifted in his pocket, and Kronos reached and pulled out his token, the silver coin. It was dirty after the few days in the Arena. He flipped it over in his hand and closed his fist around it, wondering if his father was watching right now. He wondered what Sarah would be thinking right now. Kronos's lip curled. "I want the girl from Two."

"What?"

"I want her dead. She's a Career. The boy from Two, too—you know what their District does."

"Yeah." Florence was internally thrilled that Kronos had a plan. She didn't care who she killed. She just wanted to break someone completely. If Kronos had priorities, then she could just agree with him. "I think that Hector's father is a Peacekeeper."

Kronos's vision went briefly red. _Peacekeepers._ The people that had killed Sarah. He bit his lip so hard that he drew blood, but he was under control. "Well, then."

"I'll add him to the list."

 _Fuck, Florence,_ Kronos thought, _the least you could do is be less obvious about it._ The Capitol wasn't supposed to know that they hated Peacekeepers! That would make the Gamemakers work against them. Kronos knew that Florence knew what she was doing. But that was a bad move on her part. "So we have a plan. But what about you? I'm not listening to your...opinions."

Florence laughed. _I don't need opinions as long as I have an ally._ "Your plan sounds fine."

Kronos was shocked at how much pain he felt at her words. Sarah was opinionated and strong and only listened to what he said one time out of a hundred. _She's not Sarah,_ he reminded himself.

Why was it so hard to separate the two of them?

He pulled his legs closer to his chest and tried to make his breathing more even. The night wasn't awful yet. He wanted to get some sleep.

As he felt himself drifting off, Florence spoke again, cutting the silence. Her voice was too loud, and Kronos felt like he was in a dream. "There's a wolf out there."

Wolves were dangerous. Not if you had a house, though—but Kronos didn't have a house anymore. Kronos pushed himself up. There were two glowing eyes in the woods. "Might be another animal."

"Fine. There's a threatening animal in the woods. Give me the sycthe."

"No."

" _No?_ "

Kronos winced, thinking about the dog he had back in 9, the only friend that he had left. That dog wasn't a wolf, just a mangy mutt that was way out of its league. "I said no."

"Fine. But if it comes any closer, I'm taking the scythe and killing it."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Florence scoffed. Her sense was that she had to be rude and brash, but still go along with the content of what Kronos was saying. "Fine. I'll do my hoping."

"See? That wasn't so hard."

Kronos was asleep before he had even laid back down.

* * *

The outside was cold, and Landon's blankets were warm and comforting and dragged him back down. He knew that he had to get up. He had a day of work, another day of exhausting himself for horrible pay, of coming home with ringing ears and not enough food, a day of pain and monotony. Landon just wanted to sleep for a few more minutes. He wanted one of the better jobs, the ones that would let him come in slightly later and earn slightly more! But no, he was just a lowly machinery worker on the assembly line, replaceable and featureless! Rain pattered down on the roof overhead, surely cold, and Landon knew that he would be soaked by the time that he got to work.

"Just another minute," he mumbled.

"No."

"Mother—"

Landon awoke with a start. It wasn't mother who was urging him out of his bed in their tiny apartment. It was Kaede, forcing him to get up out of his sleeping bag in a tiny tent in the Arena. He decided not to comment on the fact that he had called Kaede 'mother,' slightly more disturbed by the fact that he had convinced himself that he was back home. How foolish he had been! He would have traded away anything, _anything,_ to be back in District 5, to press a kiss to Kira's forehead as she slept for another hour, to go to work and to bring home a crust of bread that would make Kira's eyes light up. He wanted to see Mother's tired, warrior-like face look at him with trust and pride just one more time.

 _Shut up. I'm being an idiot!_

"Faustia wants you outside. Don't piss her off."

"What happened to not breaking the alliance?" Landon asked, his voice rough with sleep. He cleared his throat. Without his voice that could spread rumors and make people listen to him, he was nothing.

"Mud happened."

Landon forced himself to shut up before he asked a stupid question, instead following Kaede through the freezing rain and mud to the Cornucopia. Even in the pitch-black, cloud-covered night, it shone slightly as if from the inside. Faustia's hair was falling out of its braid, slightly frizzy. She seemed to be looking into the Cornucopia.

Landon got closer and saw what was wrong. The mouth of the Cornucopia was filled with mud. Their supplies were being covered in it. Their supplies were being ruined! He bit back about fifteen choice words about the world, the Gamemakers, and what the Gamemakers could do with their bad ideas. "...well." His thoughts jumped to how this could be an advantage for him. He was used to starving, Kaede and Faustia were not. But Mist was still out there, and Landon didn't want to face her with a weakened alliance.

Faustia waited for Kaede or Landon to say something. But neither of them did. She looked at each of them, at how Kaede's face was angry, how Landon's was completely expressionless. The three of them might have been very different people, but at least they all understood the beauty of holding one's tongue. She blinked rapidly as her throat began to feel strange and her eyes began to burn. She was _not_ going to cry. She was _not_ going to show weakness! She was District 2's pick for the 25th Hunger Games! She was a Career! She was supposed to be the epitome of strength, of grace, of a good competitor! Careers didn't cry just because a little thing went wrong! And yet...Faustia didn't know what to do without the supplies. She had barely had any training in wilderness survival. The training center taught them about weapons, it taught them to run and swim and to use their minds well, but they didn't have the facilities to train in the wilderness. She doubted that Landon knew much, either.

It was down to Kaede. And Faustia knew that she absolutely couldn't trust Kaede.

"We need to go back to the woods," Faustia finally said when she had command of her voice. She was proud of how calm and poised she sounded. _That's it, Faustia, small victories._

"There's plenty of food there," Kaede agreed.

"Not just that," Faustia replied.

Faustia couldn't see very well in the dark, but she thought that she saw Kaede nod. She looked at Landon, who didn't respond. He might have been less likely to stab her in the back, but he was also more likely to run away at a critical point.

 _What's happening?!_ Faustia despaired. This wasn't supposed to happen! Being a Career was supposed to mean having food and supplies, as long as they did their job! Being a Career was supposed to be the easiest job in the Games! Why was it that Faustia couldn't be a decent Career, a decent _leader?!_

 _Well, I suppose that we haven't done our job well enough._

"The Cornucopia is useless," Faustia said flatly, taking a large breath so that she didn't choke on tears. _I am Faustia Graston. I trained for ten years for this moment. My family believes in me. My District believes in me. I can do this. I am strong._ "We're going to go to the woods and hunt. I doubt that we'll leave."

"And Paris?" Landon asked, finally speaking up."

Faustia ran her hand through her hair, squeezing out water. A raindrop hit the top of her nose and rolled down off the tip.

"We have to leave him," Kaede interrupted.

 _No!_ Faustia wanted to scream. _That's not how alliances work! You take the good and the bad as they come, and you do it together! That's the basic rule of allies, that's the basic rule of honor!_ But she couldn't say anything. "You're right."

Landon lowered his voice. "Do we…"

"No."

Kaede snorted. "Is it really any better to leave him alive?"

"We're not killing him. We'll come back if we can. But not until we've killed someone else. Paris can wait." Faustia's words were as cold as the rain, as cold as she felt.

When Kaede looked into her eyes, he saw burning anger and what might have been shame. He nodded at her. "Then let's go."

Kaede had what he wanted. But he didn't know where to go from here.

* * *

Zoe hadn't been prepared for the rain to stop.

As soon as it did, the smells of after-rain started rising from the ground. The dank, cold smell of the wet air. The smell of dead, wet leaves, a slightly smoking smell that reminded Zoe of burying bodies and of the small trees that grew in District 6 (a strange combination). And with the sounds of the pattering rain gone, the entire forest was in a flurry with the motion of animals preparing for winter. _I should be doing that too, right?_

But no. Zoe had a mission.

She had spotted Khol moving through the woods earlier, and had been following her—him—whatever—for the past few hours. It had been hard to track anyone in the woods through the rain, but now that it had stopped. Zoe was finally able to catch up. She had been moving through the lower tree branches, carefully keeping balanced. The branches were slick with rainwater, but Zoe was keeping steady.

Her chest suddenly contracted. _Ha. Keeping steady._ Nathan had always told her to keep steady, always told her that as long as she kept her balance each moment to the next, she'd manage to survive. Nathan said that every day that she survived was a victory, and that every day they spent together was a paradise.

 _Oh, Nathan...if you could see me now, what would you think?_ Zoe bitterly bit the inside of her cheek. No. Nathan didn't have any jurisdiction here. Zoe loved him, she would always love him, but she was going to do what she had to do to survive. No matter what Nathan would have thought.

Khol came to a halt by a tree, and quietly, Zoe moved forward. She kept her movements as small as possible, trying to blend in with the movement of the tree leaves. They made whispering noises as they moved back and forth in the wind, so her own sounds were concealed pretty well. She drew a knife and took a step forward, stepping into thin air.

She hit the ground an instant later, whipping her arm around so that she was holding her knife to Khol's neck.

Khol let out a breathless gasp, his heart going from calmly beating to panic-strickenly jumping in his chest as if it was trying to escape. He kicked backwards, trying to hurt his assailant, but they were ready for him, stepping backwards and pulling Khol off balance at two his knees. _Mist_ — _Faustia_ —Khol's mind screamed the possibilities at him as he grabbed his knife and swung backwards, missing the attacker— _coal and crap, I'm going to die_ — _I'm going to_ die— _I don't want to die!_

"Stop trying to stab me," a voice growled. Khol couldn't tell who it was. His vision was going dark and hazy—

 _Stop panicking, idiot!_

Zara's face was on his eyelids. Khol swung backwards again, and was rewarded by the sound of the attacker wincing. _I'm going to die_ — _I'm going to die_ —

 _You don't see me complaining, do you?!_

 _I'm going to die, Zara!_

"I'm not going to kill you!"

Zara's face faded away as Khol's vision got more in focus. He breathed deeply. "Then let go of me."

The attacker kept their knife to his throat, but allowed him to stand up. "Turn around."

Khol recognized Zoe's voice. It wasn't a comforting one. _Capitol, she's going to kill me slowly and torture me and drive me crazy_ — _of all people_ —

Zoe's face came into focus, and Khol was shocked by how she didn't look awful, and how the look on her face was downright _friendly._ She kept the knife pressed to his throat— _stop smiling!_ It was disconcerting and it made Khol panic even more!

"Listen up, Khol. I need your help."

Khol let out a gasp as his heart sped up again— _at this rate, it's going to jump out of my chest!_ Was she being chased by someone? Were the Careers about to come to them and kill them? _Why would you lead them to me?!_

 _Listen to her, asshole!_

Zara's voice cut through the panic. Khol squeezed his eyes shut, and Zoe fell silent. He opened them, and Zoe kept on talking. "Mist is a powerful Tribute—"

 _No,_ Zara's voice said. _Don't get anywhere near Mist. She's way more trouble than she's worth._

 _Do you want me to listen to Zoe or not?!_

 _Mist is crazy! Leave her alone!_

"—and I can't take her down on my own. No one can. But the two of us—we can manage it. You got an eight. I got a seven. We can beat her, if we do it together."

Zara was silent. "How do you this'll work?" Khol demanded, all too aware of the knife at his throat. He couldn't say no, but he couldn't say yes, either! "My eight was for a trap that I set."

"Great. So we'll set a trap for her."

Bile rose in Khol's throat at the idea of catching a _human_ in one of his traps, but—well, it was the Games. What was he supposed to do? Turn Zoe down, and have her slit his throat? Not set a trap for Mist, and have her smash his head in with that mace of hers? Khol's thoughts instinctively shot out to Isadora, the other girl who's face he saw when he shut his eyes at night. What would Isadora think when she saw him kill someone?

 _I can't think about Isadora now!_

 _Damn right, idiot,_ Zara told him. _Don't mess this up. How are you going to survive? Think!_

 _What do you want me to do?_ Khol hadn't wanted an alliance in the first place. It was by pure chance that he and Zara—

 _Oh, you totally tolerated me. You might have even_ liked _me. Don't lie to yourself. You might not like Zoe, but she's strong. She can protect you._

 _I can protect myself, Zara._

 _Really? For how long?_

Khol shuddered, unable to ask the question. There was a roaring noise in the distance, and the sound of water flowing rapidly. The river had to be at least a mile away. Khol knew that it had been rising due to the rain. The sound of the torrent of water was terrifying. It was an enemy that Khol couldn't fight.

"I don't suppose you'll let me go if I say no."

Zoe shrugged, her smile disappearing. "I'm afraid not. It's nothing personal, really. You seem like a fine person. But...well."

Khol snorted. "You drive a hard bargain."

"If you consider no bargain whatsoever to be a deal, then I'll let you think that way. It's probably a pleasant mindset."

"Put the knife down. I'll help you. But after we kill her, we part ways. You let me go without trouble."

Zoe snorted. "You really trust me to do that?"

"Not at all. Luckily, your arm is hurt. And I trust that Mist might be able to hurt the both of us enough that we won't want to fight anymore."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Khol shrugged. He _needed_ it to come to that. Zoe's knife was still raised, and she looked ready to stab forward if he made a single wrong move. Zoe was untrustworthy, she was probably a liar, she probably wanted to stab him in the back, and he doubted that she had the honor to let him go.

 _One minute at a time? I just have to take it one minute at a time. If I survive this minute, then I can survive the next one. And the next._

 _Wow,_ Zara snarked. _Your logic is really horrible._

 _Do you have a better idea?!_

 _Run away as soon as possible. You have that stupid knife, don't you?_

Pain shot through Khol at the mention of the knife that had led to Zara's death.

 _You know, I'd feel bad for you. Guilt must be hard to deal with. But, you know,_ I'm dead. _I think that's way more tragic than whatever you're feeling._

"Let's go set a trap, then," Zoe said.

"Let's get some sleep," Khol suggested.

Zoe shrugged. "Whatever you say, my friend."

"Call me that again and I'll—"

"What? Kill me? You can try."

"I don't need to. You need me, Zoe Winter. You came to me."

"Don't think too much of that, Khol Thomas. You'll want to sleep with one eye open."

 _You too,_ Khol thought as he lay against a tree. There was no way he was sleeping lying down. He had to wait for Zoe to fall asleep first.

The only thing was, Khol didn't think that Zoe knew he had a knife.

But Khol knew that he couldn't kill her.

He needed her to kill Mist.

* * *

Meri looked nervously over her shoulder, and Hector didn't tell her to stop worrying. That was probably the thing that felt most wrong about this night. Meri knew that it was selfish and childish of her, but she had grown used to Hector telling her not to worry about things. They both were in a constant state of fear and panic, but Hector was better at keeping things in perspective and reminding her that they were fairly well-off.

Ever since it had stopped raining, Hector had stopped talking altogether. All that was left was the shrieking of wind through the forest and the roar of the roiling river. She and Hector had walked away from it, deep into the woods in the northern part of the Arena, but they couldn't escape the white noise. It was similar to waves crashing onto the shore, and at the same time it was totally different. Waves and rivers were both dangerous. But waves smashed onto the shore and tried to pull you away, and if you stayed out of their way, you'd be safe. Meri was used to listening to the waves from her home in the cliffs, where she was safe.

There was no safety here. Rivers could come for you and not let you escape, especially, if Gamemakers were operating them from the shadows. Meri shuddered.

Hector watched Meri shiver and once again considered giving her his jacket. _Stupid,_ he reminded himself. _That's stupid._ Hector liked Meri. He wanted her to be comfortable. But they were enemies, in the end, and Hector was cold himself.

 _That's selfishness, though._ Hermes would tell him that it was selfishness, that Hector was throwing away all of his ideals if he put his survival over the survival of his ally. That no decent person ever won the Games. Hector's father would like the move, and Hector in equal parts hated at loved the idea of making him proud.

In the end, though, Hector was cold. He was going to keep his jacket on. _Anyway, giving it to her wouldn't change much._ He sighed slightly. Things had been easier just a week ago, when Meri was just his District partner. She was a nice girl, yes, a girl who didn't deserve to be in the Games, a friendly girl who he didn't mind spending time with, but she had been just a girl.

Things had changed now. She wasn't just a girl, wasn't just an ally. She was his friend.

"Do you think that anyone's watching right now?"

Hector looked at Meri, confused by the question. "Of course. People watch the Games twenty-four-seven."

"I mean...from home."

"Yeah. Definitely. My father's probably yelling something at the screen right now." Hector wondered if Jupiter Hardy was at the Peacekeeper barracks or at their tiny home.

"Oh. I was just thinking—it must be midnight by now in District Four."

"There might be a time change." Hector winced at his words. They sounded so stupid in hindsight. Something like a static shock went through him as he recalled that Meri's best friends were her brother and cousin, both who were still underage and would probably be asleep right now. He wondered if her father was still campaigning for mayor of District 4 and knew better than to bring the subject up.

"I hope they're not watching. I hope that Jaxon's asleep. Ever since he turned fifteen, he keeps acting like he's an adult and like he should be able to stay up as late as he wants. But he still has school to go to, you know? And you have to sleep for that. Sometimes I worry that he's going to leave school and start working on a trawler. He's too young—" Meri cut herself off before she said anything stupid or dangerous. She didn't know why she was being so open towards Hector. Things had been so much easier just last week, when Hector had only been the rebellious son of a Peacekeeper. But now—Meri didn't know what he was.

"I bet he's watching right now, groaning at the fact that you just told all of his teachers about his bad habits."

Meri laughed. It seemed fake. Hector began to worry for her. Sometimes he forgot that she was only 16, almost three years younger than him. 16 had seemed like an average age for the Games only a week ago, but now he knew that it was far too young. And what about Hector? He was 18. But he had almost forgotten his age. He felt so much older. He opened his mouth to tell Meri his thoughts and quickly shut his mouth, knowing that what he wanted to say would sound too rebellious.

Only a week ago, he had wanted nothing more than to rebel.

"You know, I dropped out of school when I was seventeen. And I turned out fine."

"I don't know," Meri teased. "You turned into a—" she cut herself off before she spoke the truth.

"It's not awful working on trawlers. The work's not too bad. Hard, tiring, but nothing that can damage someone for life."

"Jaxon's pretty small," Meri fretted, and Hector was forced to admit that it was sort of adorable when she worried about her brother with furrowed eyebrows. "He hates it when I tell him that, but he's always been small."

"Well, we can't all be giants." Meri was an inch taller than he was, and it had been annoying only a week ago. Now it was simply a fact, one that Hector almost got humor out of.

"I'm not a giant. Everyone around me is just abnormally short."

"Sure. That's what they all say—"

Hector's words were drowned out.

They looked around. Their camp was in the woods and seemed fairly safe. But the next moment, Meri stood up. "Come on! We've got to pack up!"

"What? What's going on?!"

"You can hear it, can't you?! The river must curve around when it goes north. We're close to it, too close! And this area—we've been going downhill, _Capitol,_ we're so stupid! All this rain—it's going to flood!"

The roaring noise was getting louder.

"Run!"

The next instant, they were hit by a wave of something cold and freezing.

Meri couldn't stop herself from screaming, and as she did so, water entered her mouth. That only made her panic more. _I'm drowning! I'm drowning! Oh my Capitol!_ She forced herself not to scream— _Oh my Capitol, I'm going to die_ —

Hector didn't register that he was being pulled by angry, rushing water until a moment after it happened. He couldn't see anything due to the black water. He couldn't hear anything due to being underwater. And the wave was crushing him to the ground—eyes squeezed shut, refusing to breathe, Hector leaned forward. He touched something mudd and kicked upwards. His head broke the top of the water.

It was _so cold!_ He desperately kicked, but it was useless! The water was dragging him forward, and it was all that Hector could do not smash into trees as the river pushed forward into the lowlands and gullies, the water endless, as endless as the _ocean_ — _Meri! Where's_ —

But Hector couldn't think about that—he desperately stroked through the water to avoid a tree— _a branch_ — _I have to catch a branch_ —there were low-lying branches, and Hector reached up—

He screamed in agony as he caught onto one. His palms erupted into pain, and he knew that the skin had been ripped open, but that wasn't his main priority. The water might as well have been ropes, dragging him away, stretching him to the limit—his wrists were in screaming pain—but somehow, he pulled himself upwards. _No! No! This is not how I go out!_

Sobbing, he pulled himself into the tree, the water rushing forward below him. _Capitol, it's like an ocean!_ His thoughts were wild and disorganized, the chaos in his mind matching the chaos below him—

"Meri! Meri, grab a tree!"

Where was Meri?! Hector couldn't see her, he couldn't see _anything_ —"MERI!"

Meri was still being borne forward by the water. Her lungs were screaming, and she swallowed more of the brackish water as she broke the surface. "Hector!" she choked. She might as well have been blind! Blind and legless and armless and completely helpless!

 _Think! Think, Meri!_ Something slammed into her head, knocking her underwater, and then she smacked into something. A strange pain arose in her arm, and Meri feared to look at it, afraid that it would be completely crushed. _Help! Someone help me! Please!_ She kicked to the top, screaming as soon as she broke it and wildly casting about for something, _something, anything!_

She grasped onto something—a branch! It floated in the water, and she grasped it tightly— _I'm never letting you go!_ Her braid was out, her hair tangled and choking her—she was tired, her mind hazy with pain— _just hold on! I just have to hold on!_

* * *

 **D1: Paris Sapphire (1** **7); Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Landon, Kaede  
Ash, Adalicia  
Florence, Kronos  
Zoe, Khol

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Faustia's lack of nature knowledge is because Career training probably still would have been in its early stages at this point, so I hope that I'm not too dissonant from anyone's vision of Careers. Also, Zoe's ex-boyfriend is mentioned for the first time in like twenty chapters. Anyone remember him? And Hector and Meri meet some issues with a flash flood. Sorry to break them up, but...plot.**

 **There is now a poll on my profile. I'd love it if anyone could take it.**

 **QotW: Opinion on romances in the Games?**


	36. Standing Up

**Day Five:**

 _Move._

Paris looked up to the sky once more, and forced himself to roll over. The movement sent pain shooting through his stomach. Still, Paris worked through it. _I've had worse._ Mark had given him much, much worse. He got onto his hands and knees, and though his eyes were watering with pain, Paris refused to cry. _There. Mobility. Isn't that nice?_

He needed to get out of this plain, and into a more sheltered place. He was exposed out here, not just to other Tributes, but to the biting wind. It hadn't started snowing today, and the sun was bright overhead, but Paris was shaking from the cold and his hands were raw and red. The least that his former allies could have done was give him more shelter! It was like they _expected_ —

Well, of course. Their whole mentality behind leaving him here must have been that someone else would take him out. Paris understood the decision, but that didn't stop him from feeling bitterly about it. And he had the right, didn't he? He had the right to be angry that he had been betrayed! He could have easily turned down this alliance, but no, he had sacrificed himself to fight with the Careers! And now they had just left him—

 _Fuck!_

He collapsed onto his stomach, a strangled yell escaping from his throat despite his efforts to keep it in. _Pain. Pain. So much pain._ The last time that Paris had looked at his own stomach, he had nearly thrown up, due to the strange purple color that it was. But he had a feeling that he couldn't avoid looking at it. He had to treat his wounds.

 _How?_ He bleakly asked himself. There was no help left. There were no gifts on their way. Adalicia—she was still alive, right? The funds were probably all being directed towards her. Paris felt guilty for hating her as much as he did in that moment. But he deserved to feel that way, right? He was still alive! He deserved just a little bit of help!

He got back to his knees, crawling towards the forest, feeling utter humiliation mixed with his pain. This is what Mark had always said he would end up like: just another loser, another dead body. Mark would have been in utter glee to see Paris like this.

 _Well, good thing he can't._ Paris felt a moment of shock (or perhaps it was just the feeling of his left leg giving out) at the fact that for the first time, he had been truly glad that his older brother was dead.

He retched slightly, and blood came out. He choked back a sob and forced himself to continue. _I have to get to the woods._ But the hard soil was filled with sticks and stones and they poked at his hands. His entire core felt like it was on fire, and his shoulders ached with bruises. _Okay. Maybe a little break._

He let himself collapse, and stared up at the blue sky. He wondered what Luca was doing right now. Was he watching? Or working? Was he disappointed in Paris? Had he already given up on him?

 _Get up! Move!_ Paris tried to push himself up. He wasn't going to die here! His arms ached and his legs felt like they were full of pins and needles, but he pushed himself up. He locked his elbows as he did so. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself up. But it made it hard to move— _why does this hurt so much?_

His father had experienced a muscle deficiency for years now. Paris wondered if this was what if felt like to be him. It didn't quite make him look on his father any more favorably. His parents had never helped him very much. They had tried their best to love him, Paris could admit that. But they had never protected him from Mark. They had never protected him from the world.

Maybe he had expected too much. No one had an obligation to protect him. Paris had to take care of himself. He kept his arms straight out, unable to unlock his elbows, and tried to move forward on his hands and knees. Something wet trickled down his face, and it took Paris a moment to realize that it was a tear. He coughed again, disgusted at the wet sound that it made. Why was his body betraying him? Why was he so _weak?!_ Why couldn't he handle this? _Keep moving, Paris Sapphire!_

But he couldn't. In an instant, his arms gave out, and he collapse to the ground, slamming his jaw into the freezing, hard-packed earth. His stomach screamed in agony, and he knew that he was upsetting his bruises. But he didn't even have the strength to roll over.

 _Stop! Get up! Don't wallow!_

But there was nothing that he could do. He was weak. He had collapsed. There was nothing that could stop him from feeling the self-hatred washing over him. _I'm useless. Weak. No wonder I was chosen. No wonder I can't win._

* * *

The waters had finally receded, and Hector could barely keep his eyes open.

 _Meri,_ he weakly thought. _Meri._ His ally. His friend. They had to find each other. That was the only way that they could win.

But he felt too weak to ever move again.

* * *

Minor mutts, rain that had finally ended, and still Adalicia and Ash hadn't come across another Tribute. Adalicia was getting jumpy, constantly looking over her shoulder as if she would finally see another one of their competitors. It couldn't be long, right? Someone needed to die. The Capitol would be thirsting for blood. There was only a light flurry of snow drifting down from the sky; the Gamemakers wanted it to be easy for someone to track them down. Adalicia went bright red at the memories of herself and her friends, watching the Games together when they were younger. Back then, things had really seemed like a game. They had eagerly waited for the next instalment. But they weren't seven anymore, and this was all too real.

Ash cleared his throat. "You okay?" He felt stupid asking the question. He wasn't Adalicia's babysitter. If she wanted to survive, she'd have to be strong enough to make it on her own. And anyway, he had always been horrible with children. And yet...Ash thought he would be a bit too horrible if he didn't at least ask her how she was doing. She was...young. Too young.

"Fine." Adalicia hated that there was the sound of tears in her throat.

"Okay." Ash sighed. "I feel like we should be doing something interesting."

Adalicia lowered her voice. "It should only be an hour before some more mutts attack." The attacks had been fairly regular, maybe once every five hours. Nothing too serious, just some warnings that they should get out and kill someone. They hadn't heeded the advice of the Gamemakers. Adalicia knew it was stupid. Midas's death yesterday had been a clear reminder that no one was safe. Still, Ash was standing like a rock against the idea of killing anyone, and Adalicia wasn't too happy with the idea, either.

"I wish we had a deck of cards," Ash said.

Adalicia snorted.

"What?"

"It's just that—well, after five days, a deck of cards should be the last thing that you're thinking about."

"I'm serious. When I ask myself, what's worse, being hungry or the danger of being killed, all I can thing is that the worst thing is being bored and that if we just had something to do, we could take our minds off of it."

"And your solution is a deck of cards."

"Yes."

"You know, there's other things—"

"No."

Ash's dark eyes were suddenly angry, and Adalicia knew that she needed to drop the subject.

Ash looked at his ally, wondering just what the hell she was thinking. She was thirteen. She shouldn't have been the one considering how to murder people! If anything, he should be dragging her into fights! Ash knew they weren't safe. But being unsafe was still better than being a murderer. If someone attacked them? Fine. Ash wasn't against hurting someone in self-defense. But there was _no fucking way_ that he was going to actively hunt someone down. He wasn't a _Career!_

"Have you ever gambled?" Ash asked her, trying to change the subject.

"Do I look like I've gambled?"

"I don't know. Robin says that you should always fear the cute ones." A pang went through him at the thought of Robin, who was probably shaking his head and groaning at every decision that Ash made.

"Unfortunately, I'm not as cool as you are. You probably run a gambling hall or something. Every minute, I just have a stunning epiphany about you."

Ash appreciated the deep sarcasm in her voice, and took on an equally scathing tone. "Yeah, you're way out of your league, little girl. Be careful around me. In addition to running this gambling hall, I may or may not have a series of speakeasies hidden _everywhere,_ and on weekends, you know what I do?"

"What?"

"I steal horses and dress them up as unicorns and then trick people into paying me money for seeing them."

Ash could only keep up the stern facade for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing. It was brief, only lasting a few seconds, but it was enough. At least with Adalicia, he hadn't gone too far, hadn't crossed any lines. He wondered if there were any jokes that would actually offend her and decided not to find out.

"We should probably move camps," Adalicia suggested. The smoke from their small fire was going into the sky, and while they needed it to keep warm, someone could probably spot it.

"Fair enough." At least it would give them something to do.

"...I don't suppose you can summon any unicorns."

Ash looked at her for a moment. "Fuck, you're one of those little kids that loves unicorns!"

"I don't! And I'm not a kid!"

"Sure thing, kiddo."

"Ash!"

* * *

Not two miles away, Zoe and Khol were preparing their trap. Zoe had found a light set of footprints, and while the footprints disappeared at times, the trail always picked up a bit later. For all of her talents, Mist hadn't covered her tracks very well.

"She's probably not worried about it," Khol pointed out.

"Better for us," Zoe replied.

Khol didn't ask what would happen if they caught someone that wasn't Mist. He knew the answer. His stomach churned as he realized that it would probably be better for him. The more people they killed, the easier it would be to win, and the longer it took to catch Mist, the longer his alliance with Zoe would last. Khol hadn't had much of an opinion of her, other than blind fear, but now he decided that he was ready to hate her. Maybe she was just a girl thrust into a bad situation, but she was cold and callous and Khol wasn't ready to excuse that.

Zoe kept watch as Khol set up the traps. She was glad to learn that Khol's talent lay in trap-making. It was a good complement to her own combat skills. And if they could severely hinder Mist, or catch her in a trap, then it would be much easier to dispatch her. The forest around them was full of noises: birds, wind, little creatures scurrying through the undergrowth. But there were no snapping branches, there was nothing that indicated something larger. She wondered, not for the first time, if Mist was tracking them even as they thought they were tracking her. The fact that Mist hadn't covered her tracks was unnerving. With the Skull, Zoe had learned to always make sure no one could follow her. But maybe District 11 was different, maybe Mist never needed to cover her tracks or never figured out how. Or maybe she just assumed that no one would follow her.

Zoe tried to muster up some hatred towards the girl from 11, but there was only a dull sense of pity, maybe irritation. Maybe Mist had been a bad person, but hadn't they all? Mist was just playing the game. There was no reason to hate her for playing it better than the rest of them. There was only the need to take her out before she got any stronger. Zoe drew her knife as something shifted in a bush near them, but it was nothing, and she sheathed it again. "How's it going?" she asked her ill-gotten ally.

"Fine," Khol muttered, tying a turkey-knot. He didn't know what it was actually called, only that his father had always used it to catch turkeys that wandered out of the woods and into the residential area (the Res Seam, people called it). When the target stepped into a loop of rope and dragged it forward, the rope would tighten around their leg. Khol finished tying the knot and then scrambled up the tree he had tied it too. "Pass me the log," he told Zoe.

They had gotten a small boulder from the stream and rolled it up to the trees. Zoe groaned as she saw it. "You've got to be kidding me."

"It could have been a rock, okay?"

 _Stop it with the complaining,_ Zara added. _We're doing all of the work here, District 6._

 _I'm doing the work,_ Khol reminded Zara's voice.

 _And I'm helping. I'm giving moral support._

Zoe hoisted the log up to him, and Khol grabbed it. His arms weren't very strong, and he wasn't cut out for heavy lifting. Still, he forced himself to loop ropes around the ends of the log and then tie that rope to the rope that would hopefully trap Mist. The log was now carefully balanced on the tree branch, and if someone stepped in the trap, it would fall onto them. Or fall in the wrong direction, but Khol was keeping his fingers crossed.

He looked back at the woods behind them. It was really lucky that it hadn't been snowing much. Khol had been forced to keep his hands out in the open, of course, and now his skin was scraped up and cracking from the biting cold. His nose, too, was burning. But rather than snow, the woods were now strewn with traps, all well-disguised. Deadfalls, snares, loops of rope...Zoe's mentor had kept them well-supplied with materials, and Khol had used things from the woods as well. If they could just lead Mist into their field of traps, she would be at their mercy.

Khol was slightly sick at the thought.

Zara's voice was in agreement with him, not that Khol was surprised. Her family's beliefs—her beliefs—were all against killing.

Zoe wondered how long it would be before Mist came across them and chased them back into the traps. She was carefully keeping track of where everything was. She didn't plan on falling into her own traps. She had no idea whether Khol was keeping track, or if Khol was instead depending on her to help. She didn't plan on helping Khol very much. After Mist was dead, Khol was just another loose end.

How to deal with Khol? She would have to kill the Tribute from 12, that was for sure. There was simply no way around it. She would make it quick. But everyone would have to die if Zoe was going to make it home. Mist, Khol, Fiori...they were all going to have to fall at some point.

"Should we move on?" Zoe asked.

"Yeah. This one's done."

"Great. This makes seven?"

"Yeah."

They had been up since dawn, and barely spoken a hundred words to each other. Zoe was fine with it. She didn't want to bond with anyone or act like friends. This was purely a professional relationship.

She bitterly smiled at that. _Professional relationship._ Nathan had been a professional relationship, too. He had worked for the Skull. That was how Zoe had met him. He had been several years older than her, and they had been sent on some missions together. She had tried to ignore him. He was less than her, he was just an employee, dumb muscle, someone to be thrown away when they got to be too much, and Zoe was a Winter. Besides, she knew all about men and what they did, what they wanted to do.

Nathan, though...he had been nice. Kind to her. Funny. And he had the most beautiful brown eyes, and they had sparkled when he looked at Angelica, and Zoe had known how much he loved his little sister. For the first time, she had been jealous. And he had treated her like a real person, like she deserved to be happy and be treated with care, like she was so much more than just a daughter of Richard Winter. And when he complimented her, it was on her laugh or the things that she said or the way that she was nice to Angelica, not how pretty she was or how much he wanted her. The only thing he ever said about her appearance was that he loved her smile. Zoe could remember the first time that his eyes had sparkled at her.

 _No. Stop it._

Without realizing it, Zoe's eyes had started to tear up. Nathan was _absolutely_ off-limits. She was not going to cry, not here, not now, not ever! She wasn't going to let anyone see her cry. And she was never, _never_ going to tell anyone why she was crying. Nathan was hers and hers alone. No one got to know about their relationship. No one got to know how it felt when he died, how Zoe felt like she was being ripped apart and set on fire over and over.

Luckily, Khol hadn't noticed anything. Zoe quickened her pace, following Khol into the woods until Khol stopped at an especially thick shrub. "We can make a deadfall here."

"Okay." They could make a deadfall out of things that they found in the woods, which was why Zoe was surprised to see a parachute falling from the sky. She immediately drew her knives, checking around them for another Tribute.

"It's for you," Khol said in a flat voice.

Sure enough, the parachute had a "6" on it. Zoe let it sink to the ground and then dropped to her knees, pulling open the black box. She heard Khol inhale sharply behind her, and gingerly touched the device. It had two semicircles bolted together with springs, and one of the semicircles was adorned with spikes. "Watch it," Khol warned.

"I wasn't planning on touching it," Zoe said. "Do you recognize what it is?"

Khol had only seen a few before in his life, in the fancy shops or in the hands of Peacekeepers. "It's a bear trap," he said. He had never been in possession of one before. They were too expensive, and he didn't have a license to own one. He was afraid to touch it, both because it was dangerous, and because it was a fancy, professional trap. Were they expected to use it on Mist?  
Zoe didn't seem to have any qualms. "Can you set it?"

"Maybe. Probably."

"Will this cut off her leg?"

"It'll damage it. Maybe beyond repair." Khol felt a little sick.

 _It's all for my safety, right? We have to get rid of Mist._

 _Keep telling yourself that,_ Zara said. _Killing is always immoral._

 _Mist, though_ — _she's_ —

 _Different? A killer herself?_ Imaginary Zara never laughed, but there was a beat of silence where Khol knew Real Zara would have let out a bitter snort. _Maybe it's you or her. But don't pretend that what you're doing is justified._

Khol forced himself to ignore Zara's voice and instead think about what to do after Mist was dead. He needed to split up with Zoe. He didn't think that he could kill her, nor did he want to. He didn't want to kill anyone else.

Zoe carefully recorded where Khol lay the trap, and watched as Khol began to set a deadfall a few feet away from it. It wouldn't be too long before she could be on her own again. Zoe didn't know how to feel about that.

* * *

Meri prematurely winced, and a moment later, her fist hit her stomach. She forced herself to let out a hacking cough. She punched herself again, and a few moments later, she was able to vomit up a bit of water. Groaning in pain, she pushed herself away from that spot. She felt disgusted with herself. She was freezing and disgusting and covered in river water and she wanted a warm bath, a friendly face—she wanted Hector.

"Just _had_ to be winter," she muttered. Hector would have had a joke for this, but Meri thought that freezing to death might have been a possibility, and Meri wasn't in a joking mood. She had to get up and start moving, at least until night fell. She had to get warmed up. Her clothes were soaked through. Meri wiggled her toes, and was relieved that she could feel them. She didn't know anything about surviving in the cold, but she knew from watching previous Games that if you could feel all of your appendages, you were probably safe. Still, her fingers and toes were burning uncomfortably, and the feeling made Meri sick to her stomach.

 _Great. The last thing I need right now is to throw up._ Meri was fairly certain that she had swallowed or inhaled enough water for it to be worrisome, and she had been trying to expel it from her body. Water on the lungs could be disastrous. When Meri was younger, she had seen a young Cliffie dragged out to sea by a riptide. He had been brought in by a small trawler, and everyone had rejoiced at the fact he hadn't drowned, but the next morning his mother had found him dead. He had drowned in his own bed that night, choked on the water he had inhaled. Meri shuddered at the thought. _This is why I don't go in the water!_ Of _course_ the stupid Gamemakers had managed to take advantage of it! They couldn't just give her _one thing,_ could they?!

 _Wow. Now I'm acting like an entitled little Townie. Focus, Sutherland! What's the next step?!_

Hector. Meri had to find Hector. They were still allies, and somewhere in this Arena, he was looking for her too.

Meri was past feeling embarrassed for wanting Hector. They were friends. They were allies. She could trust him.

 _Alright. Let's go find my District partner._

* * *

Fiori gripped the tree tighter, knowing that her hands would be bleeding after this. The winter had dried out her skin. Fiori almost wished that it was snowing, rather than this ridiculous cold. Her breath seemed almost solid when she exhaled, and she was bundled deep into her parka, trying not to shiver so hard that she'd fall out of the tree.

Under her, the Careers were walking.

Fiori tried to make her breathing quieter than it already was and wished that her heart would stop it with the telltale thumping. Her heartbeats might as well have been cannons, for how loud they were being.

There were only three of them now—Faustia, Kaede, and the boy from 5 whose name Fiori couldn't remember. What had happened to Paris? There hadn't been any cannons recently. Paris must have been guarding the camp. Fiori's stomach grumbled. _Shut up!_ she told it. She was in enough danger as it was.

 _Better to get stabbed then to starve,_ a little voice in Fiori's head said, but Fiori shut it down. She had gone hungry before. Being stabbed, however...Fiori wasn't prepared for that.

It had been almost eighteen hours since Fiori had last eaten. She had dealt with much worse in the past. She hugged the tree tighter as the Careers kept walking. Landon was looking around suspiciously, but he wasn't looking high enough to see her. _I am a statue,_ Fiori told herself. _Fuck, I'm a statue!_

The Careers passed out of sight, but Fiori stayed frozen for another few minutes. She wondered if it was cold enough for her to actually freeze to the tree. She had heard stories about people getting their tongues stuck to metal in the cold, and wondered if metal was the only material that tongues stuck to. Someone in the Arena probably knew the answer. The idea was unpleasant to her, both because it forced her to admit that she wasn't the smartest person in the Arena, or in general, and because it meant that the people in the Arena probably had the combined knowledge to answer every question she'd ever had, and she'd never know, because they were all trying to kill each other.

Her stomach grumbled again, and she shivered, carefully making her way down the tree. She felt a bit light-headed, and didn't want to risk falling out. Her thoughts went to Paris for some reason. He was the only one guarding the Cornucopia. There would be food there, food that Fiori could take, food that could save her life. These woods had food in them, to be sure, but it was unfamiliar and Fiori didn't want to poison herself.

 _I'll just see how well Paris is guarding,_ Fiori promised herself. _If he's alert, if he's ready to kill_ — _then I'll come back to the woods and eat some mushrooms._

She made her way in the general direction that she remembered the Cornucopia being in. It took her a while to make it there, the bright white sun traveling overhead in the glass-blue sky. But eventually, the hard earth of the forest turned into small grasses that were white with frost, and Fiori knew that it wouldn't be long before she was on the plain.

That was when she had spotted the body.

As soon as she had seen the human body on the ground, she had frozen, quickly backing up to the cover of the trees. She stayed silent and as motionless as she could manage. _Shit. Are they...dead? Or just sleeping?_ There had been no cannons. They must have been sleeping or injured. _Or maybe the fucking_ Gamemakers _fucked up!_ But Fiori knew that wasn't a possibility. She looked above the body (it was hard to ignore it!) across the plain, to where the Cornucopia was. There seemed to be no one guarding it. Fiori made a half-circle around the plain until she reached the point where the woods met the prairie. No one was there. The Cornucopia plain was bare and empty of any person but her. Fiori made her way through the woods a few more times, walking several miles. Each time, no one was there.

The knowledge of the body was itching at her mind. Fiori forced it down. She didn't want to know that there was someone dying not a mile away! She didn't want to remember it! She wanted to be innocent of any wrongdoing. She just wanted some food!

 _It's been a long time since I was innocent,_ Fiori was forced to admit. She felt sick. She knew that she should go back and kill whoever the body was—Paris, most likely. Either out of mercy, or because it would make things easier for her. Fiori had thought that she was prepared to kill someone. If someone had attacked her, Fiori would have fought back. She would have killed them. But to make the first move…

 _Stop being weak! Stop being an idiot! You're going to get some food, Fiori Hart, and then you're going to march right back to whoever that is and put them out of their misery!_ Fiori _hated_ the Gamemakers for doing this to her. She hated herself for putting herself in this situation.

And then she made a made dash to the Cornucopia. She didn't stop sprinting until she had entered the mouth of the horn. It seemed slightly uphill, but Fiori didn't think much of it until she was sliding on the ice-covered floor and crashing into the wall.

Fiori couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft scream in anger and pain. She tried to stand up, using spear-racks on the walls as leverage. It was dark in the Cornucopia, much too dark, and for some reason when she stood up her head hit the ceiling.

She looked down at the ground.

Then she screamed in frustration again. _Don't be an idiot!_ she told herself. _Don't give away your position!_ But she couldn't help it! After making it to the Cornucopia, it was flooded with frozen fucking _mud!_

 _You have_ got _to be kidding me!_ Fiori dropped to her knees. The mud was still soft near the center. There were supplies buried in it. Humiliated, Fiori grabbed a blunt spear from the wall and started digging in the mud.

She stayed in that position for a few minutes, digging through the mud with a spear and her hands. Her cheeks were bright red, and tears were threatening to fall. She felt humiliated. She couldn't believe that she was digging through the mud so that she could eat mud-covered food. But more than anything, she was _hungry._ Fiori knew that her pride would take hits in these Games, but she couldn't help but feel that the Gamemakers had utterly, truly scored a victory over her. They had lowered her. They were proving to the Capitol what pigs District kids were.

 _Fuck! Fuck this, fuck them, and fuck me too! I'm such an idiot!_

But when she came across a backpack and managed to pull it out, she couldn't stop hereslf from grinning, even as tears rolled down her cheeks in burning paths. She yanked it open, and felt mud-covered bags of dried fruit inside of it. They should have been fine to eat. Fiori couldn't stand being here for another moment. She balanced her way to the outside of the Cornucopia and sprinted back to the woods.

Now...for Paris. Nausea rose in her. She didn't want to kill him. She wanted to run away, back to her mother maybe, and hear that everything was going to be okay.

 _Don't be weak._

Fiori walked along the edge of the woods until she came across Paris again, steeling herself for what would happen with every step that she took. She drew her knife even before she saw him.

He hadn't moved. There was red-brown stuff around him, and Fiori realized that he was lying in his own blood. She felt sick. _This is the kindest thing,_ she told herself, and advanced.

 _I'm sorry,_ she told him, knowing that no one would hear her and that no one would bother listening, anyway.

Then she brought the knife down.

The cannon fired immediately, and Fiori let out a breath. A sigh of relief. An apology. A scream of pain. It didn't really matter which. She stood up, and tried to wipe the blood off of her knife as she made her way back into the woods. She thought that her tears might be freezing onto her face, and forced herself to stop crying. _No. You don't show weakness. You don't let anyone know how much they're hurting you._

She wanted to burn this damn Arena down. She wanted to tear it apart and burn it to the ground. She wanted to burn the Capitol and wanted to go back home and be safe with her mother and sister just one last time.

 _Well, you don't get to. Now shut up and eat._

She took the packet of fruit out of the backpack. The food inside was fairly clean. Fiori gnawed on it until it had defrosted enough for her to swallow it. The feeling of having food was the best thing that Fiori had ever felt.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Ash Gabbro (16); Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Landon, Kaede  
Ash, Adalicia  
Florence, Kronos  
Zoe, Khol

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Paris:** Paris was one of the first submissions we received, which made him very close to my heart. A lot about him was very average: he was an average fighter, average at making friends and being charismatic, and I don't think the reason he was chosen was ever explained very well. Still, he was another fairly nice person in a Game meant for mean people. If he hadn't joined the Careers, he might have made it farther. In the end, he tried his best, and that simply wasn't enough. I hope that he will be remembered as a fairly strong-willed person who didn't deserve what he got. RIP, Paris.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **And so we see another death. Kind of boring this time, but I hope that the chapter as a whole wasn't horrible to read. Honestly, the main focus of this chapter was to set up plot points, but I think it'll pay off in the end. Thoughts? Questions? I'd love it if y'all could review.**

 **QotW: Do you like swimming?**


	37. Frost on the Grass

**Day 5:**

Walking was strange.

Hector had given himself some time to get used to the pain in his body. Then he had forced himself up. He couldn't give himself time to get boring to the audience, which would just lead to the Gamemakers sending mutts to dispatch him. He had to make himself interesting. And he had to find Meri.

However, walking—that was presenting more of a problem than Hector would have liked. After a few steps, the aches in his arms and legs had seemed banished, and moving had been easier. Hector had assumed that his muscles were warming up and becoming limber once more. After a while, though, the aches came back and Hector wondered why he didn't just sit down and stop for the day.

 _Because that would be giving up,_ Hector reminded himself. He couldn't give up. It wasn't just an idealistic thing. If he gave up, then the Capitol would get bored with him, and he would be faced with a threat he couldn't defeat.

Besides, he wanted to find Meri.

It was a strange thought to have. Hector's father had drilled into his mind that there was no place for friendship, in the Games or in Panem. Hector had spent most of his life ignoring his father. Still, if he wanted to live, he had a feeling that his father's words might be useful.

 _Get your priorities straight,_ Hector reminded himself. He needed to reassess what he wanted. Hermes had warned him that living, living as a Victor, as a puppet of the Capitol, would change him. By definition, Hector could not be a rebel if he tried to win.

But what did that even mean? What was a rebel, and how could the definition _not_ be completely pliant? And at what point was Hector allowed to throw away the base ideals that came with rebellion? Wanting to live wasn't the same as being a Career or as being an object that the Capitol got to use. Certainly, no one blamed children from the lower Districts for fighting their hardest. When someone from District 9 or 10 won by cutting through the opposition, no one saw them as puppets or anti-rebels, they were simply seen as underdogs, as dark horses.

 _Because that's what they are!_ Hector knew that he was acting entitled and stupid. _It's a miracle when they win, because by all rights, they shouldn't!_ That was why District 4 was so strange. It wasn't one of the impoverished Districts that never got to see their children come home. But it wasn't like 1 or 2 either, where training Tributes had become a career. It was a strange, in-between place.

So what were his priorities?  
Hector knew that it was stupid to be thinking about her, but when he tried to force himself to think, to really _think,_ the first thing that he visualized was a pair of hazel eyes. _Food,_ Hector thought to himself. He had lost most of his supplies, and he needed to feed himself. But then there was the memory of a braid flicking over her shoulder. _Weapons,_ Hector tried to think, because he had one knife remaining out of two and a waterlogged spear. He imagined a hammer, a good, heavy hammer, and knew that he needed one if he wanted to be a serious threat. That was the weapon he knew how to use, that was the weapon that he could make a threat. He touched his throat, where the small hammer pendant that was his token dangled. He was comforted to be reminded that it was still there. _Cold._ It was freezing and Hector had his jacket, which was practically frozen through.

A shark tooth necklace, wrapped around a tan wrist. A surprised laugh. The joking way that she said his name.

 _Fuck. Fuck it all._

Hector was going to find Meri.

* * *

Mushrooms and raw millet. Delicious.

Mist sighed.

She had never eaten particularly well in her life, but she had never been awfully fed, either. She had bounced back and forth between minor gangs, and they, along with black market trading, had always provided the food that Mist needed. Ironically, the best Mist had ever been fed was when a knife ripped open her face when she was young and she had to be nursed back to health. A stupid woman from the fields decided to take her in and help her. It was helpful for Mist, but the worst decision that the woman had ever made.

Mist glared up at the sky, wondering why Seeder didn't just send something. There _had_ to be sponsor money! Mist knew that people had to be supporting her. They knew that she was strong! They knew that no one could take her down! Or was this because Mist was fighting with _Zoe fucking Winter?_ Zoe was probably flashing skin and looking pretty. Maybe the Capitol wanted her to win.

But still. There had to be the smart people out there, the ones that knew Mist was undefeatable! So why the fuck wasn't Seeder sending anything?! Mist dismissed the possibility that Seeder was too bitter to send her gifts. Seeder wasn't like that. She was a doormat, a mentor who insisted on following the spirit of the law along with the letter. If there was money, she would have sent Mist food.

Mist pulled a sprig of millet out of her backpack and stuffed it in her mouth, gnawing the seed off and spitting out the straw. She had to chew it for several minutes before it could finally dissolve. She knew that she wasn't getting much nutrition. That was bad. Very bad. She needed to be well-fed if she could keep up with Faustia and Zoe.

"Come on," Mist muttered. "Come on." Mist was the first sure thing that Seeder had ever had. She was the strongest person District 11 would ever field.

So why wouldn't Seeder give her some help?!  
Mist made a promise to herself. No matter what, she would make another kill by the end of the next day. She would let some warm blood flow on this crackling-cold day.

She couldn't take another day of this fucking inaction.

* * *

"Ash," Adalicia said, forcing herself not to grab Ash's arm.

"What?" Ash asked, sounding a bit annoyed. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. (Ash loved the fact that he was actually able to look down at someone for once.)

"Ash."

"Adalicia, what—"

Ash's heart jumped into his throat. "Run!" he yelled at her, and the two of them broke into a sprint.

Ash was freaking out. He hadn't expected the Careers to actually find them. That had been a fantasy, a nightmare. Not something that was actually going to happen.

He realized what a fool he was for not taking all of this seriously. He put on an extra burst of speed. "Evade," he managed, gasping it out. Adalicia didn't give any indication that she had heard him.

But she had. She couldn't manage to speak, not when every atom of her being was dedicated to running just a little bit faster. There were three Careers chasing them, and Adalicia knew that she was about to die. Trees whipped past her, blurred, and the frost-covered ground was flying by. Every breath that she dragged in stung like knives due to how cold the air was, and her breath was visible as it she rushed through the crowds of it in her efforts to get away. _At least...the frostbite...won't set it,_ Adalicia thought between desperate gasps.

Then she whipped herself sideways, between two trees. She stumbled a bit, but got her footing, and kept running in that sideways direction. Someone was behind her—let it be Ash! Please, let it be Ash! Let it be Ash following her, not Faustia or Kaede or Landon! Adalicia felt bile rise in her throat and pushed it down. Where was Paris?

Ash saw Adalicia change directions and turned, momentum pulling him low. He scraped past a tree, feeling his icy skin being cut open by the rough bark. _Faster!_ he screamed at himself, _Faster!_ He had to run faster! He had to escape! Adalicia was somewhere ahead of him, her blonde hair standing out against the dark trees. _Run faster, kid!_ he thought to her, trying to urge her forward.

Faustia felt sick as she saw Ash's face. Her District partner. She was hunting her District partner. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be on a team. She forced those doubts away— _they'll make me weak_ —and made sure to keep her breaths even. She knew that breathing in this freezing air while running so fast could give her some sort of cold, but she didn't care anymore. Had the cannon earlier been Paris's? Perhaps today she'd be responsible for the deaths of two of the people she was supposed to trust. She kept her steps even, running fast, but couldn't force herself to sprint to catch up with them.

Kaede couldn't keep up with Faustia and Landon. He was used to walking through the cold, not sprinting through it, and he was quickly falling behind. _Run! If they figure out you're weaker than them, they'll kill you!_ Kaede realized that leaving Paris behind as they had done might have been a mistake. It opened them to other betrayals. _Faster!_ Kaede at least had to be better than Landon!

Landon, though, was getting ahead of his allies. He made himself go slower. He couldn't be on the front lines. He couldn't be the instigator. That was simply too dangerous. Still, Faustia and Kaede were falling behind, and what if they didn't get a kill? What if they got boring? And what if making this kill got him more sponsors?

"Knife," he heard Kaede rasp.

 _Knife._

Without pausing in his sprint, Landon reached for his knife. With a shaking hand, he flung it at the flash of movement that they were following.

Adalicia heard the word 'knife' behind her and knew that the Careers were catching up. On instinct, she forced herself to trip. She slammed into the hard, icy ground, rolling and scraping herself and coming up at the end with a million aches and bruises. But the knife sailed over her head, and that was all that mattered.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from groaning.

Landon knew as soon as he threw the knife that he had made a mistake. He hadn't hit Ash or Kronos or Fiori. He had throw his knife at little Adalicia. Nausea rose in him as if he had seen someone's hand being consumed by a fan at the power plant. He slowed down a bit, allowing Faustia's heavy steps to catch up with him. Adalicia...she was only 13. Almost as young as Kira.

 _Shut up!_ he screamed at himself. Kira was what he was trying to get back to! He had to kill Adalicia if he wanted to see her again!

Ash rushed past Adalicia's fallen form and immediately assumed the worst. He accidentally kept running past her. _Go. Just go._

No. He couldn't do that.

He screeched to a halt and turned around, reaching his hand to Adalicia and trying to drag her up and forward, but then they were surrounded by the three Careers. Adalicia pulled out her knfie and Ash drew his sword. This was it. His heart pumped quickly. But no _Career_ was going to be the end of him. He looked into Faustia's face and glared at her. "So much for District loyalty, huh?" he spat. He wasn't exactly trying to manipulate her. Just trying to tell the truth.

He realized that at the back of his mind, he had been wondering about how to protect Adalicia. He wondered if he should be focusing on that so much. Part of him knew that Adalicia had to learn to protect herself, that he wasn't responsible for her. The other part of him knew that if he didn't at least try to help her get through, he was the world's biggest asshole.

He wished that Robin were here.

Kaede looked at the two Tributes before him. Ash and Adalicia. He knew that they were about to die. He felt a strange emotion, guilt or sickness or something. All of the other deaths that had happened had seemed so...spontaneous. But this...Ash and Adalicia were like two trapped animals that they were playing with.

He looked to Faustia for guidance. But she had her gaze focused on Ash. _Fuck,_ Kaede thought, anger bubbling in him. Once again, Faustia was being completely useless. Her damned ideals were going to get them killed! Kaede pulled his axe from his back, taking a step forward, intending to end this quickly.

But Ash and Adalicia surged as one. Ash caught the axe blade on his sword and took a step back, causing Kaede to slip forward. Meanwhile, Adalicia darted forward and stabbed at him. Kaede stumbled backwards, and she followed him, baiting him with the knife. Ash stood behind her, ready to attack.

But Landon joined, going forward with his knives. He brought his left hand forward, and when Ash blocked that knife, he used the knife in his left hand to drive past Ash's defenses. Ash flipped to the side, adjusting his grip and grabbing Landon's wrist, pulling Landon forward. Landon might have been taller, but Ash was surprisingly strong, and Landon felt himself tripping. He took a huge step forward to right himself and drove upwards with the left knife. Ash released him and jumped back, and Landon curved both knives forward in a large x, cutting across the edge of Ash's jacket.

Meanwhile, Kaede cut down at Adalicia like she was a tree trunk, but she ducked. He swung sideways, and she hit the ground, pushing herself up. It wasn't fast enough. His next blow caught her in the side and she let out a scream.

But she rolled. The blade didn't sink in enough to kill, or to maim her to the point where she would be easy to kill. She pushed herself up, getting on the balls of her feet and shifting back and forth. There was blood dripping down her side, and she was panting, her eyes wild with pain. She kept her knife forward, pointed at Kaede, as if that was going to do anything.

"I'm sorry," Kaede mumbled, and moved forward.

And all of this Faustia watched.

She had to join! She had to kill! She was a Career. She needed to dispatch her enemies. But she couldn't kill Ash—he was her District partner! And while Faustia had killed felons and rebels, she had never killed an angelic-looking thirteen-year old. Screaming, she moved towards Ash, her sword aloft. He groaned as he saw her coming, kicking Landon in the stomach, but Landon moved forward again. Ash went low, darting around Landon and slamming into Landon's back, knocking the boy from 5 over. He charged Faustia, not letting her start the fight, and their blades rang against each other. Faustia was almost glad that he was attacking. That way, she could be disgusted with him and his disloyalty.

She only hated herself.

He thrust at her chest, and she parried, moving to the offensive. She swung at his shoulder, and he bent backward so that it went over him. She swung again, this time at his side, and he brought his sword around to block it, the force sending him spiralling into Faustia herself. She grabbed him by the shoulder and forced her knee into the back of his knee, moving him to the ground. He shouted in pain, and she forced herself not to scream as she brought the sword to his throat. He struggled, slashing backwards at her, and Faustia dropped her own sword and grabbed his hand, twisting his wrist until he dropped his sword. She shoved him lower. He might have been strong, but she was stronger. She was capable. And she almost hated it.

Adalica saw what was happening, and screamed, "Ash!" The sound of her aungish seemed to echo across the woods and empty sky, until the cold air swallowed her scream.

Ash met her eyes, and she saw her own anger, her own shame, her own sarcasm, and she saw Ash's determination and the love he had for his boyfriend and the despair he felt.

"Run!" he shouted. "Don't argue, just run, you stupid fucking kid, it's not your fucking fault, get the fuck out of here, run, run!"

And so she ran.

She ran again.

She threw herself behind a tree and saw the axe hurtle past her. Her side felt like it was splitting open, and it was. She ran. She didn't let herself stop running. She heard shouts and heard someone start to chase her, but for some reason the footfalls didn't last. She left a trail of blood and tears and shame, and she ran.

"Kill him," Ash heard. He couldn't look backwards, but he knew it was Kaede's voice. Landon stood in front of him, two knives drawn, Faustia's sword was to his neck, and Ash was on his knees, before the Careers, the Capitol, the world, and he _hated_ it.

"How very kind of you," Ash hissed. "Let me ask, how hard was it to convince yourself that you were doing the right thing? Believe me, you're doing a fucking _beautiful_ job of being complete and utter assholes. You like to call me a traitor? You're betraying your own people!"

He was desperate, trying to stall, and he knew it. But he didn't understand why no one chased Adalicia. He didn't focus on it. He needed her to be safe, and if the Careers were letting her go, that was all the better.

"Kill him," Kaede repeated.

Landon made a small move forward, and Ash tried to flinch, but then he stopped. _What the fuck is happening?_ Faustia made a small noise, and then said authoritatively, "Kaede, end it."

"No. You." Kaede's voice was rough and angry.

Faustia laughed, and Ash was disgusted and impressed by how much of a leader she sounded, by the way her laugh made it seem ridiculous that Kaede wasn't following her orders. "I got him down. Landon couldn't manage that, and you couldn't even kill a thirteen-year-old." Ash's anger exploded. "So you end this, Kaede."

"Face it," Kaede's voice came, "you can't kill."

"I'm not going to kill _him._ District loyalty means something to me, after all. Even you two didn't kill your own District partners. I believe you took care of them for each other." Ash grunted, punching backwards even though he knew that Faustia would grab his fist and crush it in her grip. She kept the pressure up, and Ash let out a moan of pain. He saw red for other reasons, too, though, such as the reason of Faustia callously discussing the murder of two fourteen-year-old girls.

"Prove yourself," Kaede said, his voice as icy as the wind.

Faustia twisted to look at Kaede, her eyes narrowed in a glare, and Kaede sighed, moving forward. He drew his small knife, not wanting Ash's death to be messier (or more painful) than necessary, stepping past Faustia and deftly slitting Ash's throat.

Ash Gabbro had been annoying, so Kaede didn't regret the way the cannon didn't sound for almost thirty seconds. They were a bad thirty, with Ash letting out some gurgles before finally collapsing. Faustia dropped his body (which had collapsed like a rag doll) and stood. "That's the last time you disobey my orders, Mitchell," she warned him. "I'm the leader here."

"Not much of one," Kaede pointed out, glad that he had told Landon not to go after Adalicia. "And that's the last time that _you_ ruin this alliance with your weakness. And the last time you give an order, period."

He nodded at Landon, but Faustia was too quick for both of them. She quickly made an about-face, sprinting head-on at Landon. She grabbed one of his hands and pulled it up before kneeing him in the chest. He collapsed with a groan, and she kicked him in the face. Her grip on his arm meant that his body couldn't bend backwards, just his neck curving abnormally, and Kaede heard something crack. There was no cannon, just a lot of blood, and Kaede dove forward with his axe and knife. He swung the axe, but Faustia ducked out of the way, and Kaede had to change his swing to a throw so that he didn't stab Landon. Instead, he simply tripped over Landon. The two boys tried to push themselves up as Faustia disappeared into the woods. Kaede was up in a few moments, but Faustia was gone. He groaned in frustration, his inner self screaming and beating his fists. But a Mitchell never showed weakness. So what if he had just botched what was supposed to be the dispatchment of one of their greatest enemies? So what if he had just broken the Career alliance?

He looked at Landon, slightly disgusted by the weak boy who was bleeding heavily from the face. "That was a disaster."

Landon stood up, wiping his nose, knowing that he couldn't show any pain. "Yeah. Let's go."

"No. She's too strong."

"She'll be strong forever! We have to end this now. She's close. C'mon."

The two of them quickly sprinted in the general direction Faustia had gone in, but without actually knowing where she had gone, they had soon lost what little trail she had left. Kaede groaned, and Landon knew that he couldn't fuck this up, not now. It would be a while before he could sleep again. He said in his most non-aggressive tone, "we can starve her out."

"What do you mean?" Kaede asked.

"She's not used to hunger," Landon pointed out. "And the two of us are. We'll find weaker Tributes than her and kill them and wait for her to get weaker. Eventually, we'll come across her again."

"What about sponsors?" Kaede pointed out venemously.

"They all just saw how weak she was, right?" Landon didn't point out that he hadn't been able to kill Ash, either.

Kaede sighed. "No breaking the alliance until then."

Landon knew Kaede was lying. "Yes."

Kaede glared at Landon for a moment, his jaw working, and then he went still. "Alright. Let's do this. Do you want something for your face?"

* * *

Faustia must have run four miles before she let herself stop. She looked around the trees, feeling lost.

Well, she was lost! She had fucked up! She had disgraced herself as a Career! She was completely on her own, and had lost her chance at winning! And with her, District 2 had lost all chances. She had let Ash die. She was a failure.

 _Were my ideals worth this?_

The answer had to be yes, right? Faustia was supposed to give up everything for honor. _Eyes to the mountains._ It was the District 2 way.

And yet...those same principles had lost her her alliance, her supplies, and even parts of her integrity. Being involved in the death of a District partner, even a rebellious one, spelled disaster and vindication for anyone in District 2.

 _So where do I go from here?_

The thing was, Faustia couldn't stop now. She was from District 2, no matter what. She had to do her duty as a trained Tribute. She had to make everyone proud. She had to prove herself.

Well, she could hunt anyway. She wasn't anywhere near as strong alone, but she had taken down Ash and Landon. She could do a lot of damage. But who to hunt? Faustia wasn't interested in coming across Adalicia. She didn't want to kill that girl. Mist could deal with that, or Kronos. And speaking of them, they were far too dangerous as well.

Her mind went to Fiori, then Hector. They had known rebel sympathies. They had to go. But Faustia also thought of Kaede and Landon. She had to have her revenge.

Faustia regretted what had just happened more than anything.

But Kaede and Landon would, too. Faustia promised herself that.

* * *

A cannon boomed overhead, and Fiori shivered. Her thoughts went to Paris's body. She wondered if it had been removed yet, or if it still lay, festering and freezing, where she had left it. _I should have buried it,_ she fretted. _His ghost is still here. It's gonna find me. It'll never be able to rest._ She wondered if all the dead Tributes that had ever been through these Arenas were waiting somewhere, their ghosts vengeful and restless.

 _I'm sorry,_ Fiori thought listlessly. _I didn't...I didn't mean to._ But she was disgusted with herself for thinking that. Her kill had been intentional. She was worse than a Career.

Well, no. She thought about the pack that had probably made the last kill. They were worse than her, right? They had left Paris for her to find. They were hunting others.

 _I could have left him alive. I should have left him alive._

Or was this all her fault? Had Fiori, and other rebels, driven the Careers to do what they did? The presence of the rebellious Tributes meant that someone had to drive the game forward. That was what Careers did. And the rebels had caused the rebellion, after all. The Capitol never should have imposed the killing quotas, the impossible workload, the starvation conditions. They shouldn't have hoarded resources. But the rebels had started the war. Had Fiori caused these Games through her own rebellion? Where the ghosts of all the dead Tributes hers? Had she been thinking about this wrong all along? She should have just been normal! A normal, non-rebel! She would never have gone into the Games that way, and even if she had, she would have been average, a quiet death, the kind of person without ghosts chasing her!

 _I'm sorry,_ thought Fiori. _This is all my fault._

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Corona (** **13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**  
 **D11: Mist Orchard (18)**  
 **D12: Khol Thomas (16)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Landon, Kaede  
Florence, Kronos  
Zoe, Khol

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Ash:** I think Ash was fairly well-liked among readers because of his sarcasm and take-no-shit attitude. I certainly enjoyed those things about him, and I also loved his relationship with Robin (he was honestly one of my personal favorites). He was a lot of fun to write, and I hope that he was fairly 3-D by the end. He deserved a happy life, and I wish that he could have gotten one. RIP, Ash. I'll miss you.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Another one bites the dust. Sorry about killing Ash. Also dead is the Career alliance. I'm going to have fun with the former members in the next chapters. *evil laughter* Thanks as always to reviewers, you guys give me life. See you next update!**

 **QotW:**

 **Favorite TV show?**


	38. Trees and Traps

**Night 5:**

Paris was the first face to pass through the sky, and before Fiori knew it, she was retching.

She flipped onto her knees and shoved a bedraggled strand of hair behind her ear, dry heaving for a few moments. She wanted to throw up. She _deserved_ to throw up, she deserved to be disgusting and starving because she was a _disgusting_ person, a horrible person! Paris was dead, because of her! Ash's face flashed across the sky next, and Fiori's eyes were tearing up. She hadn't killed him. But it was her fault. She should have done something to save him, she should have ended the Games and destroyed the fucking Capitol, she should have convinced everyone to put down their weapons and play nice.

 _So why didn't I? Why am I so useless?_

* * *

Florence was on watch for the first few hours of the night, and she was fairly sure that Kronos had finally gone to sleep. She had no doubts that he had promised himself he'd stay alert, but Florence knew how hard it was to stay awake for more than a day or so. She had spent years when she was younger making nightly visits to the windows of her targets and scratching her nails on their walls, stuff like that, and the hardest part of the game had been escaping without being noticed. Florence was always exhausted the next day in school. Some people had connected the dots.

She glanced at Kronos's form. Sure enough, his chest was steadily rising and falling as he breathed. He had bundled himself up in his parka and covered himself in leaves to protect himself from the cold spring night. The leaves were sliding down his body as he breathed. That was what human life did. It was simply a disruption to the environments that surrounded it. Except for Florence, that is. Florence knew that she had a greater reason for being alive than the simple nothingness offered to most of humanity. She didn't know why she was so much better, but whatever powers there were had given her a chance to be the best killer there was, the best manipulator, the best at having a cold heart, and Florence didn't plan on disappointing them.

She focused in on Kronos's jugular vein. It was hard to see in the dark, but she knew that just several feet away from her, the blue and red lines were running parallel up the length of Kronos's throat. They were bright, regal, pulsing. His blood sang out to her, and Florence blinked hard. No. The game wasn't just to kill people. It was to hurt them, to break them, and then watch as their puny lives flowed away with their blood into the uncaring earth. That was what the Jeff DuVal situation had been. He had been annoying, insulting her, calling her crazy, saying that she had killed her little brother. He had been a problem in her life. So she had followed him home, startled him whenever she could, done unnerving and downright creepy things, even engineered things so that he had been walking down a path that a runaway cart carrying about a ton of hay just _happened_ to be rolling down. She had hurt him. She had gotten back at him for calling her a killer. She had seen him cry and when she had finally smothered him to death on that summer day, when he was still weak from the accident, he had been all but apathetic.

Florence had several other projects back in District 9, classmates whose confidence and sanity she had been slowly wearing away. She had made a list of prospective targets. Her plans had been a bit disrupted by the Games, of course. But now there was another target in front of her. She felt a bit of pity for Kronos Malakai. He never should have helped her. She knew that she reminded him of Sarah, a girl who had been killed by Peacekeepers a few years ago. So Florence had to use that.

A glimmer of something silver caught her eye, and Florence pushed herself up and scampered across the ground, closing her fist around it. It was a coin, the kind that probably wasn't real silver, the kind that was used in District 9 to pay for anything but tesserae grain and oil. _Must be your token, huh?_ she thought to Kronos, as if he could hear her. He didn't respond. Florence internally laughed and slipped the coin into her pocket. A token like this, a memory of home, had infinite possibilities.

It made her think of her own token, too, and that made her angry. She glared at Kronos and sat back down in her previous position. Kronos looked surprisingly peaceful while he was sleeping. Almost _young._ Florence _hated_ that, and felt a familiar sickness rising up in her. The picture of Draven, crushed in her pocket for five days now, seemed to gain weight. _It doesn't mean anything,_ Florence reminded herself. _I don't care about Draven. I don't!_

Still, he had been her first kill. It was hard to forget that.

Jeff DuVal had been right when he accused her of fratricide. Florence was proud of it, of course, but not for the usual reasons. There had been no finesse to Draven's murder, no months of planning and careful manipulation. She had simply drowned him the first time that she had a chance. It was _years_ ago, but Florence could remember a vague, childish feeling of abandonment and jealousy. Such strange feelings! Florence couldn't even _imagine_ being jealous of someone else getting the love of her parents. It hadn't been long before Florence had realized how stupid they really were. Draven's life might have been more valuable to her than the joy it had given her at the time.

 _There's no changing the past,_ Florence reminded herself, staring up at the stars.

* * *

Meri was cursing the fact that she and Hector hadn't come up with a contingency plan for if they were separated. She really had no idea where he could be. She had been travelling along the river for the last day, thinking that maybe Hector would stay near the source of the water. It had been nightmarish, to say the least. Meri had stayed at least fifty feet away at all times. She was fairly convinced that the water was out to get her. It had never been friendly back in District 4, and it had certainly been downright demonic just last night.

 _I wish you were here to make fun of me,_ Meri thought to Hector. _I wish you were here to comfort me and to keep watch and to tell jokes and smile and just be yourself._

And _gah,_ she was getting horribly sentimental. She had despised girls like that, girls that had thrown themselves all over boys that they thought were attractive. Or maybe she had just enjoyed feeling superior that she, Meri Sutherland, was better than that, was tomboyish and down-to-earth and didn't care about her looks or whether her laugh was pretty enough to attract someone.

Hector—well, he made her feel funny. He made her feel self-conscious about how her hair was matted together and how her eyes squinched up when she smiled and how her voice was a bit too rough, how she was just a bit too tall.

 _Pull yourself together, Meri!_ She had no time for these thoughts. Hector was an ally, nothing more.

He could never be anything more.

* * *

It felt strange to go to sleep without Meri's comforting presence. They had been sharing a space for the last few days, and there was nothing romantic about the way that they were sleeping so close together (these were the Games, and Meri was only sixteen, after all), but Hector missed the way that Meri's breathing was soft and comforting and peaceful. He missed the way she would laugh and frown in her sleep. He missed the way that she would obliterate any bugs that made it close to them.

 _I wish you were here,_ Hector thought. _I'm cold and I'm hungry and there's a spider about five feet from me and I'm already panicking. I wish that you were here to laugh at me and to kill that damn spider and to just be your damn self._

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would find her, if it meant climbing the tallest tree here and locating her. If it meant swimming upstream for nine hours. No matter what it took.

* * *

Mist had been silently moving through the night, on the hunt. The picture of Paris had indicated that the Careers must have been fracturing, and she was currently trying to track them down. If she could take out of one of them immediately, she should have been able to deal with the next two. And then Seeder would have no _choice_ but to send food.

Right on cue, her stomach grumbled. Mist glared at nothing, as if she could silence her own stomach. She remembered times when things had been much worse. Since she could remember, she had gotten food from scrounging it up on the streets of District 11. The fields had always been there, taunting her, but stealing from the fields was likely to end in death. So she took food from garbage cans, or stole it from people on their way home with bread and fruit bought from the shops. It was a shame, really, that no one in 11 had the courage to stand up for themselves. They might have been able to stop her.

Her parents hadn't realized that she was attacking people to feed herself. They had never been a part of her life. They had been close to each other, maybe even been in love (though Mist had no confidence that love was anything more than a delusion created by the needy), but they had never given much thought to her. They had been rebels, constantly working towards what they believed to be the greater cause. Mist had started running away during the nights by the age of seven. Her parents barely noticed. Her childhood had been spent largely on her own, observing from other street criminals how to be threatening, how to get away with things.

Perhaps it was good that everyone knew her parents didn't care about her, because the Peacekeepers hadn't come for her when her parents had been arrested. The execution had been public, though no one had come to watch. Mist had observed the bodies a few hours afterwards. She hadn't felt anything.

 _Are you waiting for me to feel something?_ Mist thought to Seeder, accusatory. _Do you want something out of me? What are you waiting for?!_

She carefully placed her next foot, her eyes straining in the dark. She was in a constant state of trying to spot anything moving in the dark and trying to see if there was a pit of vipers that the Gamemakers were waiting for her to fall into. _A field of vipers...that would be humiliating._ There was a pile of leaves by a tree that looked slightly unnatural. Mist glared at it and moved forward, one foot in front of the other, doggedly trying to find a trail.

The leaves were bothering her.

Mist doubled back, bending down. Carefully, she poked apart the leaves, trying to see if something was buried underneath. Maybe some stupid Tribute had buried supplies there! But there was nothing there. Groaning in frustration, her stomach painful, Mist stood up. But her sixth sense was still telling her something was wrong!  
She looked down at the ground again. A few feet away, almost invisible in the dark, there was the outline of something circular. Mist looked around, grabbed a stick, and touched the stick to the ground in the center of the circle. She dragged the stick outwards. As she hit the circular thing and kept pulling, a rope snapped back around the stick, jerking it upwards. Mist let out a rough laugh. _Idiots. Did they really think I'd fall into a trap as juvenile as that?_

She carefully took a step back and looked around her. If there was one trap, there might have been many. A circular rope trap wasn't anything that required talent, but they were easy to make, and there could easily have been more. A strange sense of foreboding came over her.

She was surrounded.

There was something in a tree, and Mist couldn't see what triggered it. Deadfalls were harder to spot, but Mist would have bet that she was surrounded by them. She took a deep breath in and out and carefully took a step forward. She had to get out of here.

She scraped the ground before her with the stick, displacing leaves and making stripes in the dirt. Nothing was there. She shuffled forward, trying to cover her tracks. Her stick hit something else, something slack, and Mist pushed it aside. A bit of twine became clear in the moonlight. It had been hidden well. Mist breathed calmly in and out. She wasn't going to get anywhere by panicking. She had to keep her head on her shoulders. She had experience with this kind of thing, too. When Peacekeepers had chased her, she had quickly learned after two whippings to stay calm and duck into small spaces. After getting into several street fights, she had learned that the only way to win was to remain calm. When she and two fellow gang members had been arrested by Peacekeepers, Mist had stayed calmer than her compatriots. When the Peacekeepers had given them a choice: kill your former allies and you get out, Mist had been calm enough to take the opportunity and had effortlessly killed the people that had been her friends.

 _This is why you can't beat me,_ Mist thought. _If I was going to die, it would have been a long time ago. I wonder if I can even die anymore._ The idea of her own death simply seemed strange and unreasonable. So many stronger people had tried to kill her. They had all failed.

A trip wire was carefully strung between a push and a tree, with the perfect amount of slack to be hidden and disconcerting to anyone that got stuck in it. Mist stepped over it, moving forward, gaining confidence and going more quickly. These traps were all juvenile, stupid. She could make it out.

Zoe watched from her vantage point in a tree a good few feet away. Mist's stupid mace was strapped to her back. If only there was some way to steal it! But no, Mist was easily navigating the field of traps they had laid. She would notice if Zoe took the mace. And Zoe didn't want to take her chances against Mist face to face. She had to destroy her from the dark.

She looked up, finding the tree where Khol had hidden. She glared at Khol. _Why isn't she falling into anything? Why isn't this working? Why did I ever trust you?_

Khol couldn't see Zoe's face very well, but he thought that he understood the meaning. Mist was more intelligent than he had given her credit for. He made a signal at Zoe: _wait._ They just had to wait. It didn't matter if Mist navigated most of the traps, as long as she fell into one of them. They just had to wait.

He felt sick. This encounter was sure to end in death. And he didn't want to kill anyone. Nor did he want to die.

 _It's one or the other,_ Zara warned. _Just look at what happened to me._

 _I'm sorry,_ Khol said again.

 _Sorry doesn't do anything. Sorry doesn't make me alive. So save it._

Mist spotted a deadfall and carefully avoided it. She kept her eyes trained on the ground in front of her, trying to make out any discrepancies in piles of leaves, any sticks that could have been deadfalls. She moved forward, more quickly now, vaguely aware that she had lost the trail of whoever she had been following.

The strokes of her stick were much wider now, sweeping the ground before her, and they knocked over another small branch that was leaning against the tree it had fallen from.

In the instant before everything went wrong, Mist realized with horror that the branch had too much tension behind it.

And then everything exploded with pain.

Mist screamed as she was slammed into the ground by something huge and heavy and unforgiving. Her vision spotty with pain, her ribs feeling as though they had been yanked out of her body, Mist realized that she couldn't breath. She heaved herself to one side, and a boulder rolled off of her. _Get up! Get up!_ Mist tried to move, but she couldn't—the pain, it was so much—and her ribs— _Get up! Get up!_

Zoe didn't allow herself an instant of victory, quickly scampering out of the tree and sprinting to where Mist was. She had to kill Mist before Mist got up! "Come on!" Zoe shouted to Khol. A few moments later, she heard the sound of Khol's feet following her.

Mist was pushing herself up, and Zoe leapt, kicking Mist in the ribs. Mist let out a mix of a groan and a shout, collapsing again. Zoe grabbed her by the shoulder, a moment from slitting Mist's throat—

But Mist hauled back and punched her in the jaw. Zoe held on to Mist's shoulder, but her knife when awry, slashing Mist in the shoulder. Mist screamed again, but she threw herself forward, and Zoe was surprised by her weight, stumbling a bit. She shoved Mist's shoulder, pushing her onto the ground, and allowed herself a moment to get her wits about her. After taking a deep breath, she jumped forward, but Mist had pulled out her mace and swung at her. _Why won't you just die?!_ Zoe wanted to scream, but at the same time she felt disgusting respect for the girl that refused to die. Just like Zoe did.

Khol watched as Mist swung the mace. She was incredibly strong. If she killed Zoe, Khol knew there was no stopping her. Zoe ducked under the mace, and then came up, grabbing Mist's elbow and using it as leverage to pull herself up and pull Mist down. She grabbed the handle of the mace, stopping Mist from bringing it down on her head, and then kicked forward. But Mist was strong, ripping the mace back from Zoe even as she bled, and swinging again. This blow caught Zoe in the side, and Zoe stumbled off into the darkness.

But Mist was distracted.

Sick with himself, filled with adrenaline and fear, Khol ran forward and stabbed Mist between the shoulderblades. With a gurgle, she collapsed. Khol knew that she was in pain. He had to kill her. To end this, to prove himself, he had to kill her. To avenge Zara, he had to kill Mist. He shut his eyes tightly, pulling out the knife (Mist screamed, the world was just screams) and then heard something.

"Do it," Zoe said, and there was determination in her voice, but something else. A bit of respect. Khol felt a sick bit of pride at the fact that he had Zoe's respect, but then there was something else, because wasn't Zoe's voice supposed to be in front of him, and not behind?

And then Zoe slammed the knife into Khol's back. The cannon fired as soon as she did. She had hit Khol's brain stem. It had been painless. Zoe moved forward, to where Mist was. Mist still had a glare on her face, and she weakly spat at Zoe. It was mostly blood. Zoe stabbed Mist directly in the heart.

A cannon fired.

Zoe stood up and wiped the blood off of her knife. She scaled a nearby tree and started making her way across the branches, getting away from the section of the woods they had laid heavy with traps. Her heart felt heavy. She had known she would have to kill Khol from the moment they had allied, but she felt strangely guilty over it. She wondered why she hadn't just let Khol kill Mist and then kill him afterwards. It would have painted her in a better light.

No. She knew why.

Khol had been through a lot. But Khol was still innocent. Zoe didn't believe in an afterlife. But in a strange way, she had wanted to let Khol die without having a death on his conscience.

 _I'm sorry,_ Zoe thought. _But I have to survive._

* * *

The night was getting warmer. Kronos wasn't feeling it.

He pulled his jacket tighter. He hadn't felt warm in a few days. It seemed that yesterday's winter had sucked all of the heat out of his blood and body, leaving him an icy husk. He didn't much care. Warmth had never done anything for him.

He glanced again at Florence. Disturbingly, her sleeping face reminded him of Sarah's. Sarah had managed to keep a glare on her face for the five years Kronos had known her, but while asleep (if she wasn't having a nightmare) her face would be peaceful, youthful. Florence was the same way. She tried to look smiley while awake, but while asleep she looked like a normal person. Kronos gripped his scythe, resisting the urge to slice with it, to just end this now. Sarah should have been dead. Kronos didn't want to let Sarah survive in any form. Her soul deserved whatever release there was.

He forced himself to release the handle of the scythe. _I don't kill girls,_ he reminded himself. Especially not when he needed Florence to help him take down other people in the Arena.

 _You win this time,_ Kronos thought. Well, that wasn't quite right. She hadn't won. If Kronos had his way, neither of them would win. By the end of the next week, they would both be at rest. But she had managed to live another day.

* * *

Adalicia had tried sleeping in a tree. It wasn't working for her. But there was no way that she was going down. Every movement in the woods, every snap of a branch or rustle of a leaf made her flinch so badly that she thought she might fall out of the tree.

She let out another sob, trying to keep herself quiet. She hadn't been doing very well at it. Ever since Ash had died, she had been a wreck. She knew that she was ruining herself for the audience, that no one would sponsor a weak Tribute. Well, Adalicia couldn't deny that she was weak! She hadn't been able to save Ash! She had just run away, like a fucking coward—because she _was_ a fucking coward!

Adalicia had thought that she knew what self-hatred felt like. When her mother had led those children out onto the ice, Adalicia had blamed it on herself for having that mother, for not being there to stop it. She had known that her family had made her tainted. She thought that she deserved the hate she had received.

But now—that had taken on a new reality. Adalicia didn't deserve to be alive. Ash did. He had a boyfriend that loved him, a reason to live, and he was strong. Not only that, but he was rebellious, Adalicia could tell, and he had good intentions more than anything. Hadn't he proven that by helping her? He was an all-around wonderful person, and yet Adalicia was alive when he wasn't.

"I'm sorry," Adalicia sobbed, not caring who heard her. Let them come! Let them try to kill her! Either whatever stupid force that had kept her alive so far would intervene and save her again, or she would die, and things would be as they should! She sniffed hard, feeling disgusting. She wanted a warm bath, she wanted good food and a soft bed, she wanted to feel safe and comfortable. She wanted Ash. She wanted her mother. She wanted _Vasyklo._

 _Where are you?!_ She screamed in her head. _Where are you, and why aren't you_ here?! _I'm your little girl, your little sister, I need help and I need you to help me! So why aren't you here for me?!_

There was no answer. Of course there was no answer. For the first time, the reality of Adalicia's situation dawned on her. She had done well in the Arena so far. But she was the youngest one left. Why did she think that she could do this? _I might as well off myself now, rather than let a psycho get to me._ The angry thought was rather liberating. Adalicia was disgusted with herself.

Something rustled in the bushes, and Adalicia froze. Her heart was in her throat as something humanoid walked below the tree where she was sleeping.

It was another Tribute— _bambambam_ went Adalicia's heart—and the Tribute seemed to be crying as well. Adalicia almost burst into frenzied laughter from the surrealism of the moment. And then the Tribute collapsed under Adalicia's tree, and Adalicia didn't know whether to sob or laugh.

She managed to keep herself composed, frozen and silent as the Tribute sniffed. "I'm sorry," Adalicia heard, "I'm sorry."

Adalicia _did_ laugh now, a panicked laugh, a joyful one, a laugh that was fed up with the world, and the Tribute under the tree let out a gasp and shot upwards. Adalicia remained in the tree. "You don't have to be sorry," she giggled, "because it's not your fault. It's mine."

"Who— _Adalicia?_ "

Adalicia thought she recognized Fiori's voice. "Maybe," she said, lowering her voice. Adalicia couldn't die, not now. "I meant what I said. It's not your fault."

"I fucking _killed_ Paris!" the Tribute shouted, and Adalicia could tell that it was Fiori from the angry voice. That was slightly comforting. Fiori wasn't as murderous as some of the others. Though with Ash gone, all of the nice Tributes were gone as well.

"And I let Ash die," Adalicia confessed to Fiori, caught up in the strangeness of the moment. "So it's _my_ fault."

"Paris isn't your—"

"He's my District partner," Adalicia reminded Fiori. She had almost forgotten that fact herself, but when Paris's face had come across the sky, she had been harshly reminded. She missed him, really. "I should have done something to stop it."

"It wasn't your fault," Fiori repeated, a twinge of disgust in her voice.

Adalicia shrugged before realizing that Fiori couldn't see it. "I wonder if we're making good television."

The comment rendered Fiori silent for a few moments as she tried to figure out what to say. _Don't be a sarcastic little shit, you thirteen-year-old? Fuck the Capitol and their TV? Yes, I hope that we can serve our benevolent overlords?_ "Hopefully," Fiori finally said. She wondered if Adalicia was planning her death. Fiori somehow doubted it. She wanted to trust someone. She wanted to believe that Adalicia, at least, was fairly innocent. "Do you want to get out of the tree? Gah—before you answer that, I'm not attempting to get you into my grasp or anything. I'm not going to kill you."

Adalicia got flashbacks to Ash. "I don't really trust you."

Fiori sighed, sick of craning her neck. "Yeah, that's fair. I wouldn't trust me, either. But can I trust _you_ not to kill me?"

"I'm not going to kill you," Adalicia said, and she sounded as offended as Nikki did when Fiori insulted her for fun.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to propose something. You go to sleep, and I'll keep watch. Then you keep watch while I sleep. It'll be easier than panicking all night long."

"No," Adalicia said.

"Okay," Fiori replied, sitting down under the tree.

"Go away," Adalicia ordered.

"In the morning."

" _Now._ "

"Make me."

 _No more,_ Adalicia thought, she couldn't handle any more friendly older Tributes that were so much like Vasyklo, she couldn't handle friendship, fake or real, and she couldn't handle more not-alliances that would only end in disaster. She had to get out of here.

But she didn't want to. Adalicia was weak, because she just wanted a friend.

 _I'll leave in the morning,_ she promised herself.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Coro** **na (13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D7: Kaede Mitchell (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Landon, Kaede  
Florence, Kronos

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Khol:** Khol was a really great character. His backstory was amazing, and his personality was one that just felt very _real_ to me. I loved writing him. It's a real tragedy that Khol was picked, because he was really a nice guy. Unfortunately, bigotry got the better of him, and his life was stolen away when he really didn't deserve it. I hope that he enjoys the afterlife. RIP.

 **Mist:** Mist wasn't exactly opposite of Khol. They both had great backstories and had some fairly negative parts of their personality, but Khol was mostly good and Mist was overwhelmingly bad. It's safe to say that she was one of the, if not _the,_ most evil character in this set. For that reason, she was amazing to work with. I loved writing how horrible and detached and murder-y she was, and I loved the fact that she had basically no redeeming features to her. I think a lot of people will be happy to see her go, but I'll miss her. RIP, Mist. Or go to hell, one of the two.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Two deaths. Much blood. Excitement. I'm sad to see these two go, and I hope that no one was too disappointed. I also hope that the other character development this chapter was adequate. I really must say that I've been falling more and more in love with each of these characters (except Florence, really).**

 **QotW:**

 **If you had to place your money on one of these Tributes, which would it be?**


	39. From Love's Shining Circle

**Day 6:**

Adalicia blinked a few times and then immediately started panicking, remembering that Fiori was here. The sun had barely come out overhead, and the day was pale. Fiori was still on the ground under the tree. She looked like she was sleeping. Peaceful. Adalicia's face twisted into something like a frown, and she tried not to cry. She didn't want to be alone again. But being with another person was an impossibility.

She attempted to be quiet as she packed her few things into her backpack and swung it onto her back. Carefully, she stood up, a few leaves rustling. She paused for a moment, wanting to escape without Fiori knowing where she was going. Adalicia didn't trust anyone left in the Arena. Her eyes burned again as she considered what she might run into out there, but she pushed down her tears. She was already at a disadvantage. But never again would she show it.

Carefully, she dropped out of the tree on the opposite side of Fiori. She landed a bit too loudly, but quickly made her way into the undergrowth. The day was already warm, which was pleasant after the freezing winter. Ash would have hated this. Adalicia sniffed.

She kept moving into the woods. Pine needles crunched under her feet, and where the ground was bare, her feet made small thumping noises. A small bug ran across her path, frantic and uncaring about any of Adalicia's problems. She wondered if it was real. She kept her ears open the whole time, trying to avoid any other signs of life. She couldn't afford to meet another Tribute at this point, that would be death for her.

So when a slightly larger noise came out of a clump of oak trees, Adalicia halted completely, getting ready to bolt. Her breathing seemed too loud, but she didn't want to move, as that would give away her location. Quietly, she waited. _I dare you,_ part of her thought. _I fucking dare you. You come across me now, and I'll murder you, I don't even care._ An anger was inside of her, one that almost convinced her she could really win a fight.

Then the thing emerged. Adalicia's eyes widened, and her fear was almost overtaken by confusion. Fifty feet away from her was a huge rabbit. It was about the height of her waist, with its ears giving it an extra foot. Adalicia inhaled sharply, knowing that it was going to try and kill her.

She took a step back. It regarded her, its nose vibrating a little. It blinked its huge black eyes, and then the eyes flashed red.

Adalicia was proud of the fact that she didn't scream. She turned on her heels and sprinted back the way she came. _Faster! Faster!_ She forced her strides to become longer and dragged in breaths of air. Her backpack was bouncing up and down, but Adalicia honestly couldn't feel it any more.

She could recognize the trees she was passing, and her heart dropped. _Fuck! Fiori!_ She whizzed past where Fiori was. "Run!" she managed to scream.

Fiori had woken up to find Adalicia gone. She hadn't expected to see Adalicia running back again, and had known something was wrong even before Adalicia had screamed at her. A huge _something_ emerged from the woods, and Fiori shrieked, grabbing her knives and sprinting after Adalicia. _Boom, boom, boom,_ went the thing, and Fiori was terrified.

She caught up to Adalicia and began to pass the younger girl. _Boom, boom, boom_ — _holy fucking shit I'm going to die_ —and Fiori snatched Adalicia's shoulder and dragged her to the side.

The thing barreled past them, and Fiori shrieked again as she recognized it as a gigantic rabbit. "Fucking shit!"

"I know!" Adalicia screamed, just as loudly as Fiori was yelling. Fiori was breathing hard, panting, and held her knives aggressively as the rabbit rounded towards them. _Fuck, no, I'm not going to be taken down by a fucking rabbit!_ Fiori glared at their enemy.

"You got a weapon?" she asked.

"Knife!" Adalicia answered.

"It'll do! I'll distract it, you circle around!"

Fiori was incredibly relieved that Adalicia didn't argue with her. She wouldn't have put it past the girl from 1. The rabbit, white with red eyes, leapt at her, and instead of sidestepping, Fiori lunged forwards. The rabbit cleared her head— _whoops._

"Nice fucking job!" Fiori heard Adalicia shout.

"Shut up!"

There was the glint of a blonde braid, and then Adalicia had disappeared. _Fuck!_ Fiori thought as the rabbit leapt again. Fiori threw the first of her three knives. It landed deep in the rabbit's leg, and when the rabbit hit the ground, it could only limp forward. It bared its teeth at her— _shit, I didn't know rabbits had teeth like that!_ It moved fast for something with three functional legs, and Fiori grabbed a tree, using it to pivot so that its bite missed her. She flung her second knife, and it hit the rabbit in the foot. The rabbit tried a few times to move, and Fiori realized that the knife had gone through, but then the rabbit wrenched itself up and jumped at her again. She stumbled back, her knife held aloft, but her swing caught it in the cheek rather than the throat.

"Adalicia!"

Fiori heard a guttural shout, and then Adalicia had thrown herself on top of the rabbit. She stabbed it— _one, two, three, four_ —and the rabbit collapsed. Adalicia pulled herself off of the rabbit, and Fiori realized that she was sobbing. A strange feeling came over her, and a lump rose in Fiori's throat. _Fuck, no, don't fall for this_ —

"Look, it's going to be okay," Fiori heard herself say roughly.

Adalicia glared at her, as if pretending that she wasn't crying. "That's a lie."

"Okay, well—"

"Behind you!"

Fiori wanted to snap at Adalicia to shut the fuck up, but then she felt her back explode in pain. "Fuck!" she shouted, twisting.

A smaller rabbit flew threw the air, its mouth slightly red— _crap, that's blood!_ Fiori reached over her own shoulder and yanked on something, pulling off a second rabbit. She whipped it into the bushes. "Get away from me!"

"Stay still!" Adalicia yelled.

"What?!"

Adalicia was holding a knife, and she ran at Fiori, but when she stabbed, a pressure was released on Fiori's back. Adalicia cut the rabbit's head off, dropping the body and groaning in disgust. Fiori ran over to where the first rabbit had landed and stomped on its body. "Die already!"

The two of them remained in defensive positions for a few moments until nothing else came out of the woods. Eyes trained on Adalicia, Fiori dashed to the large rabbit and pulled her knives out of it. Adalicia quietly watched her, and Fiori hated how innocent the girl seemed because it was probable that Adalicia was planning out how to kill her.

Fiori bent down and cut open the rabbit. There was real meat inside. "Lunch," Fiori muttered.

"Are you crazy?"

Fiori stared at Adalicia. "I don't plan on starving."

"Yeah, but…" Adalicia reddened, unable to explain her thinking. It just felt _wrong_ to eat a mutt. That was an abomination of nature. They shouldn't consume it, lest they become less _real_ themselves. But Fiori was looking at her with a bit of a glare, with slight disbelief, and Adalicia quietly went to join her. "I'll build a fire, I guess."

"Hang on. You're staying?"

Adalicia glared at Fiori. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"I guess you're not so bad."

"No joking. That's my number one rule." Adalicia couldn't be reminded of Ash, not again.

Fiori was just a bit reminded of Nikki. Nikki made lots of rules. She just never would have made a rule against joking or smiling. "You're making rules now?" She tried not to let sarcasm take over her voice. Being mean to a thirteen-year-old just seemed a little too much.

"I don't want another bad alliance," Adalicia finally answered.

"I get it," Fiori admitted.

"Oh yeah?"

"I was partnered with Zoe for a bit. She's fine, I guess, but...you understand."

Adalicia understood. Partnering with anyone as strong as Zoe was simply a bad idea. "Everyone that I've allied with has died."

"Wow. That is a lot worse. You win."

"No joking."

"Sorry."

Fiori got the feeling that both of them were glaring at their work, Adalicia glaring into the fire and Fiori glaring at the large rabbit as she skinned it. They worked in silence.

* * *

Things just felt so...useless.

Faustia had been half-heartedly hunting. She had found a trail and lost it, and found another trail and lost it again. She had come across some traps in the woods and then some bloodstains and connected the dots. She had seen squirrels and birds and not a single other person. Most importantly, there were no allies. There was no pack for her to lead.

Without a pack, why was she hunting? She was at a disadvantage. But without a pack, who was she? Faustia had entered the Games so that she could be a hunter. But she couldn't do this without some good backup.

Faustia knew better than to blame her misfortune on the nature of the Games. You didn't push your own idiocy onto the Gamemakers or the Capitol or the actions of any person other than yourself. This was entirely her fault. And Faustia had to reassess. She had to change her game.

But how?

Something silver flashed across the edge of her vision, and Faustia turned, seeing a silver parachute floating towards the ground. She stepped forward and picked it up, unwrapping it.

She didn't quite understand what it was supposed to be, not for a moment. It was a small leather strap, with some embroidery in red string along one edge. She blinked furiously, trying to stop herself from showing emotion. It was the kind of strap they used in District 2 for many different purposes: to hold bundles of sticks together, to string beads or kitchen implements, to make it easier to grip a sword or axe. It was undeniably from _home. Thank you,_ Faustia thought.

She carefully wrapped the strap around the hilt of her sword. She wasn't sure what she meant, but she thought that maybe it was supposed to remind her that District 2 had faith in her, that she was _theirs,_ that they were waiting for her to return. _Eyes to the mountains,_ Faustia thought, staring at the fake mountain range in the distance. _Eyes to the mountains._

* * *

"No, across the paw," Kronos advised.

"Like this?"

"Yeah."

Florence couldn't believe that Kronos was actually able to teach her things about torture. When it came to the mind, Florence was well-versed, but when it came to physically hurting things, she wasn't the best. Kronos was being helpful. She snuck a glance at his face. He hadn't shown noticeable emotion when he had realized that his coin was gone, but Florence had a hunch that it wouldn't be long before the loss got to him.

Kronos couldn't believe that he was teaching Florence how to torture things. He was probably leading himself towards his own demise. Still, it was nice to have someone that had a common interest with him, and Kronos didn't want to turn Florence down. He had the weapon, yes, but they were sitting at the edge of the lake, and Kronos wouldn't have put it over Florence to have made the ground unstable so he would slip in.

The Cornucopia plain had been abandoned, so they had taken a nice walk through the huge grasslands, down to the lake. The lake was wide and seemed fairly deep, with several feet of clear, dark earth surrounding it. The grass started growing in a perfect circle several feet away, giving them a good amount of cover. And the lake was a good place to find the small prairie animals that came by to get water.

That was where they had caught a prairie dog. Kronos had played with a fair amount of them before, as they abounded in District 9. He was glad to pass on his knowledge to someone else.

"Cut here."

"But won't that kill it quickly?" Florence asked.

Kronos was well-aware of how bizarre this relationship must look to any Capitolite. The two murderers, teaching each other all that they knew. "Not if you cut diagonally."

Florence shrugged, doing it, and grinning as some blood spurted across her hands. "Okay. Now what?"

"What do you want to do?"

Florence's grin got slightly bigger, and Kronos knew that he was doomed as he realized that it wasn't just disgust that he felt as he stared at her insane smile. There was something else, too, something that resembled camaraderie or respect. She wasn't Sarah. But she was _Florence fucking Channing,_ and she was _glorious._

* * *

Landon felt something shove him and stumbled to the side, crashing into a tree. He opened his mouth to yell at Kaede and reached for his knife when a tree slammed down in the area where he had been standing.

He looked at Kaede, dumbfounded, for a moment, and then wildly gestured to the side. Kaede got the message and deftly sidestepped the falling tree, and without speaking, the two of them broke into a run.

There was a creaking noise to Landon's left, and he sprinted to the right as a tree fell behind him. A creak to the right, and Landon grabbed Kaede's shoulder, holding him back as a tree fell in front of them. Together, they leapt over it, covering their heads as dust flew up from the ground. All around them was the sound of cracking.

Kaede kept calm. The sounds reminded him of District 7, and a lumberjack would never let a few trees defeat him. He knew that they had to get out of this section of the woods. Without even thinking about dodging anything, he began to sprint forward. He just had to move faster than the falling trees.

 _Boom, boom, boom,_ went crashing trees behind him, and Kaede could almost feel them on his heels. He forced himself to move faster, his heart hammering like it never had before. _Boom, boom_ —but Kaede didn't stop.

Landon took a different approach, counting on his agility to save him. He kept his gaze up, waiting for falling trees to obstruct the blue sky, and then darted forward or sideways to get out of their way. Brown flashed across the corner of his vision, and he stepped back quickly, a tree smashing to the ground in front of him. Landon leapt through the dust and cleared the tree, diving to the side to escape the next one. He had a feeling that his antics weren't only saving his life, but would help him gain popularity. Kaede was far ahead of him, and Landon moved faster—jumped to the right—trying to catch up with him—fell back—and there Kaede was, still sprinting like a demon.

Kaede hadn't been expecting the tree to fall in front of him. He barely dragged himself to a halt in time, the falling tree sending off shattered bits of bark that hit him. Kaede glared at the tree, almost angry at it for _daring_ to harm _him_ , a Mitchell! And then Landon was beside him, and Kaede watched as Landon hurtled the tree, landing safely on the other side.

"Kaede, come on!"

Kaede heard a massive groan and turned to see a huge pine tree swaying. For a moment, he was frozen, and then he clambered over the tree. He and Landon were off like bullets from a gun, running as fast as they could. They heard the sound of the tree falling behind them, but then there was blessed silence. They slowed to a halt.

"Think we're out of there?" Landon asked, panting a bit. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to get his breath back. He was really at a disadvantage, what with his job back in five not giving him any stamina training. He was almost jealous of Kaede, who was bulky and a good runner. That made him dangerous, too dangerous.

Kaede nodded at Landon's question, refusing to show how tired he was. He didn't wipe his brow, pretending that he wasn't sweating. "If nothing's happened yet, then…"

Landon got the message, remaining silent and raising his eyebrows. Kaede pointed at something behind him, and Landon slowly turned.

Hector raised his hammer in an unthreatening way as if surrendering, but Kaede wasn't having any of it. They had come across a Tribute, and now the Tribute had to die. Beside him, Landon pulled out his knives, and Kaede raised his axe.

Hector didn't know what he had been hoping for. That they could all go on their ways? That they would pull off their disguises and reveal themselves to be Mags and Meri? That this was all just one big dream (except maybe in real life Meri was his friend, and _fuck,_ but he needed to stop thinking about Meri)? Hector readied his hammer for an attack. All of his father's training was going to have to come in handy now.

"Ready to die?" Kaede called.

"Shut up!" Hector called back.

Kaede nodded, running straight at him. Hector sidestepped him and swung his hammer, catching Kaede in the ribs. Kaede stumbled with a grunt, but was up again, swinging at him. Hector knew that he had to start trying to kill, or he would die.

But the prospect seemed impossible.

Hector ran backwards, getting both Landon and Kaede in his sights. Landon raised his arm and threw something, and Hector raised his axe, deflecting a small knife. Landon threw a second knife, and Hector ducked. It went whistling over his head. Kaede seemed to understand that Hector's position on the ground was hard to defend, and swung his axe at Hector's head. Hector rolled to the side and kicked upwards, hitting Kaede in the kneecap. He threw himself forward, using his momentum to stand, and brought his axe down in a heavy blow on Kaede's shoulder.

But then Landon was on him, and Hector had to dodge around Kaede so that Landon couldn't stab him. Landon stabbed forward despite their distance, and Hector stepped back again. _Go on the offensive,_ Hector knew he had to do that, but he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't kill someone.

Kaede stood, and Hector kept on stepping back as he deflected the flurry of blows. Kaede's axe made a diagonal swing, and Hector caught the blade on the edge of his hammer, pushing upwards and forcing Kaede back. Landon's knives flashed forward, and Hector whipped himself to the side, letting Landon's momentum take him forward, then stepping back as Kaede tried to kick him.

Angrily, Kaede let his blows become wilder and wilder. Hector didn't have anything to stab with, and Kaede did! That gave him a huge advantage! But Hector simply kept moving backwards like a coward, avoiding all of the blows. Sweat was dripping into Kaede's eyes. The air whistled as his strong, fast blows cut through it, but Hector was slick, dodging them all. Landon came up behind Hector and aimed for the small of his back, but Hector dove to one side. Landon was upon him in that instant, tacking Hector into the ground and sandwiching Hector's hammer between the two of them. Hector wildly kicked, but Landon forced him down, raising his knife.

But Hector realized in that instant that he did _not_ want to die.

He didn't have to kill to ensure his own survival. Hector gritted his teeth and pulled his knee upwards, kneeing Landon in the crotch. Landon let out a gasp of pain and rolled off of him, and with his freed hand, Hector swung his hammer in a mighty arc. It smashed into Landon's face, and Hector heard Landon scream.

He looked at Landon, through the blood, and couldn't help but exclaim, "your face!" He moved to aid Landon before remembering where he was, and then the axe caught him in the shoulder.

If only Hector hadn't moved closer to Landon, Kaede would have cut him nearly in half, but as it was the axe only cut across his back in a huge red smile. Hector's shoulder got the worst of it, and Kaede listened, slightly detached, to Hector's scream. Pain was just another part of life. He raised his axe again, but then Hector collapsed to the ground. For an instant, Kaede waited for the cannon, and in that instant Hector flipped to his back.

Hector hit Kaede with a double attack, flinging his axe so that it smashed into Kaede's kneecap (he wanted to vomit) and then kicking Kaede in the same area as Landon (he could almost see himself getting the most embarrassing nickname ever in the Capitol). Kaede collapsed to his knees, but he grabbed Hector in a sort of hug, digging his fingers into Hector's open wound.

"Kill him!" Kaede roared at Landon, his body nothing but pain. His kneecap felt as if it had shattered completely, but if Hector just _died_ —

But there was nothing. It took a moment for Kaede to realize that Landon was gone. Kaede screamed in anger, shoving Hector off of him and raising his axe, bringing it down—

But Hector brought his hammer up to meet the blow, and where the two weapons met, the blade of the axe shattered. Kaede looked at his ruined axe in disbelief, and then Hector was on him.

Hector couldn't beat Kaede to death with the hammer. He just couldn't. It was becoming obvious that his choice of weapon was completely useless. But there were shards of Kaede's axe, and Hector grabbed one of those off of the ground, cutting open his own palm even as he stabbed Kaede in the heart. The cannon fired, and Hector rose like a drunk man, stumbling backwards. He couldn't tell where his own blood ended and where Kaede's began. He couldn't remember what he was fighting for, what his intentions had been, who he was.

 _Meri...Hermes...I'm sorry._

* * *

Landon knew that he made made the right choice.

Kaede was too dangerous of an ally, and his wound had made him useless as well. And it wouldn't have been long before Kaede stabbed him in the back, and Landon couldn't stay in an alliance, it was too much pressure…

But Landon also knew that he was a traitor. His actions had finally directly led to someone's death. Landon shuddered. He had considered himself a bad person already. So it shouldn't have been too hard to let someone die, right?

But there was a big difference between destroying someone's opportunities at getting ahead and letting someone, someone that Landon _knew,_ die.

Where was Landon supposed to go from here? What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Meri flinched as the cannon sounded. What if it had been Hector? What if Hector was hurt? What if he needed her? And where the fuck was he?!

Some parachutes, each holding crackers, had been falling and leading her in a general direction. They had fallen every hour or so, and Meri was well-aware of how lucky she was, lucky that she had the money to receive these gifts that would lead her to Hector, lucky that her mentors wanted her to find Hector, and lucky that Hector was still alive for her to get to.

So she travelled deeper into the forest, gladly away from the water, crossing soft soil and hard-packed dirt, crossing areas where scuffles had obviously occurred and ones that seemed as though they had never been seen by human eyes before (and that was actually a possibility).

 _Are you waiting for me? Are you trying to find me?_ Meri wondered. And how long would it be before they were together again? Meri didn't consider herself particularly dependent. But this...this was different. Meri needed someone by her side. More importantly, Meri had a friend out there, one that she was letting down every minute that she was unable to track him down.

But how was she supposed to find him? Other than the clues, Meri had no idea how to track someone. Part of her was slapping herself over the fact that she was bad at tracking, and other parts of her knew that it would have been near-impossible to pick up Hector's trail anyway, especially considering the manner of their separation.

Meri did what she could, using what few resources she had to make her way towards what was hopefully her one friend here in the Arena. When they found each other...well, Meri didn't want to consider what would happen then. He wouldn't kill her, and she wouldn't kill him. That was all that was certain. But beyond that...what? What was Meri expecting?

 _I really am an idiot,_ Meri realized. No matter what happened in her quest to find Hector it would end in certain misfortune because there was no way that both of them could get through this alive. And if it came down to it, would Meri really sacrifice herself for Hector? He was _Hector,_ of course, but he was also a boy that she had only known for two weeks.

But what else was Meri supposed to do? Climb a tree and wait to die? Hunt someone else down and kill them? What other options did she have?

No, Meri at least had a friend. That was more than anyone else in this forsaken place had been granted.

Meri forged forwards and tried not to listen to her misgivings for too long.

* * *

 _How do I deserve this?_

Zoe stared down at the sumptious lunch she had been sent. Good bread, real butter, what looked to be different kinds of cheeses, fresh fruit...even a bit of chocolate that Zoe was hugely excited to see. Still, despite the clear sign that she was popular with the Capitol, Zoe found it hard to simply dig into the food.

 _No guilt,_ Zoe reminded herself. Guilt was a luxury, or else a thing meant for the ultra-poor who liked having the moral high ground. The one time Zoe had felt guilt, it was when Nathan had died. And even then, it wasn't because her father had gone completely wild, accusing her of botching the mission and betraying the Skull. It was nonsensical, grief-stricken guilt, the kind that made Zoe feel like her chest was being torn open and her body was being stomped on, the kind of guilt where the knowledge that Zoe hadn't done anything wrong and the knowledge that what had happened was absolutely her fault were married perfectly.

Her hands shaking slightly, Zoe bent down and picked up a slice of bread. She took a bite out of it, marvelling at how light and soft it was as compared to the rough tesserae grain she was used to feeding off of. And the cheese was salty and strong-flavored, reminding her slightly of wine she had tasted in the Capitol. Zoe closed her eyes for a moment, comforted by the blackness behind her lids. She hadn't been aware of the fact that food, simple flavors, could be so beautiful. But no, they were just as gorgeous and sparkling as the dresses on Interview Night, as the jewels dripping from Capitolian ladies. Out of all the things that were wrong about life in the Districts, one of the top ones had to be that they never got to taste anything as delicious and full of life as Capitol food.

Despite being fairly well-off due to her family's position, Zoe had never been given any of the finer things of life. The best thing she could remember tasting was chocolate back when she had been a child and when her father hadn't started to use her in his games. And then there were two strawberries that Nathan had somehow managed to steal. She had snuck out of the apartment building her parents controlled, and he had taken her to the very edge of the slums, where the grass started to grow, and they had shared the fruit. It had been the best night of Zoe's life.

 _No. Stop._ Zoe could feel her thoughts becoming jumbled and nonsensical. She had to focus. Nathan was dead, he was never coming back, and Zoe didn't plan on joining him. _Focus, Winter._

She forced herself to swallow down the food. It took more effort than it had any right to, and after a moment, Zoe realized that every bite was just a reminder of the bodies that she had clambered over to earn it. The food was made out of the dying breaths of Mist, of Khol. Zoe didn't deserve it.

 _Stop thinking like that, you idiot!_

No. Zoe deserved it. She deserved it _because_ she had killed the two of them. She had been stronger, she had come out on top, and that meant that she was utterly deserving of every bite that she took. If they had been deserving, they would have been her now, not her.

Morality was a myth. It was a beauty that Zoe absolutely could not afford, and it was a thing that she wasn't fool enough to believe in.

Let them watch her in District 12 and District 6 and the Capitol. Let them spit at her and curse her name, let them wish her dead. They didn't matter. All that mattered was that Zoe was still breathing.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Corona (13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)  
** **D4: Hector Hardy (18); Meri Sutherland (16)  
** **D5: Landon Mercer (17)  
** **D6: Zoe Winter (18)  
** **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)  
** **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Florence, Kronos  
Fiori, Adalicia

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Kaede:** Kaede was one of the strongest people in the Arena, and as of this chapter, he had the highest kill list. I think a lot of people expected him to get much farther than this, and he had the potential to be a Victor. Sadly, he started out as a rather arrogant person, and his outlook on his place in the world didn't change very much throughout the Games, which ultimately led to him biting off more than he could chew. He wasn't a very nice person, but he wasn't awful either, and he didn't deserve to die. RIP, Kaede.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Hector finally steps it up and shows his strength, and Landon once again proves that he excels at running away. Florence and Kronos are still crazy. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, which could be called "A Brief Check-in With Our Remaining Characters." Sorry about killing Kaede. See you next update!**

 **QotW: Do you prefer forests or prairies?**


	40. An Endless Horde

**Day 6:**

Faustia felt a new energy within herself. The signal of trust from her District and mentors felt better than anything she had ever gotten. She still worried about the failed alliance, about Ash, about death from every direction, but it felt good to know that the people at home weren't spitting at her whenever she came onto the screen.

Still, what was she supposed to do? Faustia couldn't afford to run into any of the other Tributes right now. Adalicia, maybe, and perhaps Meri or Fiori. But she despite her strength and years of training, she still worried about the outcome if she faced another one of the Tributes. There had already been three cannons since the last Anthem had played. Someone—or multiple someones—were out there. And they were killing.

Still, if there was one thing that Faustia knew, it was that movement was imperative. It was harder to catch moving Tributes. If she kept her camp in one spot, something was likely to stumble upon her. If only she knew how to climb trees! But no, Faustia would stay on the ground, and she would quietly move to a position that was easier to defend. High ground. Faustia needed high ground.

She had been walking towards the fake mountains for an hour now, on the desperate hope that maybe the land got hillier as she approached. She knew that the mountains, and even parts of the woods, were probably just backdrops that the Capitol technology was projecting. But she was choosing not to think about that. She just needed to keep herself interesting. The trees had changed type several times, going from mostly evergreen to mostly deciduous. The wind had picked up and then stopped again. And somehow, the woods had been mostly barren of any other animals. Little gnats and perhaps a tiny gopher, yes, but nothing more than that. Faustia knew that the other foot was about to drop, and every step that she took was with care.

The sound of rushing water became more apparent in the distance, and Faustia internally swore as she came across the river. Was it _wider_ than it had been earlier? Certainly, it was violently flowing, foam rushing down, rocks standing up in the middle of the water. It would be death to try and swim it, Faustia was certain of that.

So this was where the Arena came to an end. That must be it. They were encircled by a river that was impossible to cross! Faustia wanted to congratulate the Gamemakers. They had created a barrier that blended in perfectly with the environment, and the true genius of it was that Faustia hadn't even considered it until now! The Capitol was truly ingenious, Faustia knew. But for the first time, her respect was mixed with a bit of anger.

 _Stop it. Anger is useless. Anger just disrespects our leaders, and destroys everything that District Two tries to stand for._

Faustia wasn't going to cross that river.

She turned slightly and then the world went black.

For a moment, Faustia couldn't breathe, and she desperately tried to suck in air through her aching, useless lungs. Her legs were jarred and felt floppy and useless, and she had to put in effort simply to find her arms. _Where_ — _where am I?!_

But she kept her mouth tightly pressed together, aware of the cameras, and kept calm. _No. I'm not dead! Don't freak out, Graston!_ Her windpipes gradually opened, and she carefully drew breath. It felt like a glass of hot chocolate, like laughter on a warm day, like smelling a flower. It was sweet and it was the best thing Faustia had ever felt. She closed her eyes to keep a few tears from escaping and made herself stand up. The ground beneath her was loose soil. She stretched out her hands, and found each of her palms pressed again more gravelly dirt. In an instant, she realized how little space she had, and then claustrophobia took over—but— _stop it, you idiot, don't do this to yourself! Focus!_

Faustia made herself open her eyes.

She looked up. There was burning sunlight clearly streaming down on her. She had fallen into a well-placed hole. It was incredibly fortuitous that her legs and ankles were fine, _thank the Capitol,_ but it was likely that the Gamemakers wouldn't have wanted to hurt anyone _too_ badly with this trap. There were maybe five feet between the top of her head and the opening of the hole. Faustia just had to get up there. She could do this.

Carefully, she ran her hands up and down the sides of the hole, trying to displace any loose dirt. Gradually, the walls became smoother and harder. Faustia placed her feet against the walls of the hole and pressed outward, doing the same thing with her hands so that her muscles were all tightly clenched. She removed one foot, raising it and pressing again. She did the same, making her way, inch by inch, up the hole. Sweat poured down her body, and Faustia gritted her teeth.

And then her eyes widened and it was all that she could do to keep herself from screaming— _but oh, Capitol, oh, Capitol_ — _how am I supposed to_ — _I'm going to die_ —Faustia lost her grip on the walls and slammed to the ground, her ankle twisting painfully.

The final four feet of the hole were covered in snakes. Faustia desperately tried to call her memories on poisonous snakes to her blank mind. _Coloration. Triangular head. Slit eyes. But there are a few exceptions_ — _scales, scales can help with identification_ —but then she had to bend over to stop herself from retching. The snakes were starting to writhe, coming out of the walls. _I'm trapped in a pit with snakes! Oh my Capitol!_

But Faustia knew that she needed to get out. She needed to stay strong. They couldn't break her! They wouldn't be able to break her! She forced herself to straighten. She needed to get out of this hole as soon as possible. She braced herself against the wall again and started to move upwards. _I know there are snakes this time. There's no more shocks._

After a few minutes, she was holding herself below where the snakes were swarming and writhing. The more time that passed, the more snakes poured out of the walls. She was losing energy, too. She had to keep moving, and fast. She found a mostly-empty area a few inches wide and forced herself to lift her hand and place it quickly in that spot. Almost immediately, a snake slithered over one of her fingers, and then another one— _Capitol, they're everywhere!_ —but Faustia forced herself to stay in position even as she shook. Her eyes and muscles were burning. She found another empty space and forced her arm up, jumping a bit to move her legs up. The hole was still fairly small. She could brace herself without too much trouble.

She continued like that, lifting a hand, desperately flicking snakes away, and moving slowly up. As her feet entered the snake zone, it became harder to see where to place them. She placed her left foot and slipped back down the wall. It sickened her to know she had just slipped on a snake, and what she was doing right now made her want to throw up. She put down her foot again and felt something crunch. _Don't throw up, Graston! Don't throw up!_ And with the next hand she placed, a larger snake slithered over. Faustia found herself breathing too fast and made herself slow down, taking another hand up, then another step up, and then the snake was wrapping itself around her wrist.

Everything in Faustia told her to drop down, to scream, to sob, to panic! But no! Faustia _refused_ to let this defeat her! _I am Faustia Graston, Tribute of District Two!_ She moved faster, throwing caution to the wind, and then her fingers were grasping the outside of the hole! New, clean air hit her as she pushed herself up, letting her arm strength carry her away from that deathly trap. She rolled for all she was worth, getting away from the hole, but there was still something slithering—the snake had gone up her arm, and Faustia bit her tongue as she grabbed it by the head and yanked on it. It bit but couldn't reach her hand, and she pulled again, and then it came away from her arm. She swung it over her head and then flung it as far as she could, turning and running away from the hole.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me."

Despite their encounter with the rabbit, neither Fiori or Adalicia had felt very good about forming a new alliance. They each knew that it was probably their best hope for survival, but both of them feared a betrayal and didn't want to experience the pain of watching an ally die. So they had started walking in opposite directions.

And somehow, they had managed to walk in a circle and meet up with each other again. They had left again, and then run back into each other. Adalicia glared at Fiori as if this was Fiori's fault, and Fiori gave up on cutting the younger girl some slack, glaring right back at her. "This isn't _my_ fault."

"Well, one of us is making a mistake—"

"Oh, spare me, Adalicia! They're playing with us! They like watching us freak out over shit like this!"

"You're the only one freaking out," Adalicia pointed out.

"You totally are too!" Fiori insisted.

It only took a moment for Adalicia to realize that Fiori was right. These woods were incredibly homogenous and it was hard to feel like you were getting anywhere when all you had to do every day was wander around and hope that you didn't die. Adalicia didn't want to admit that this was really a maze, a maze that was impossible to escape. She didn't want to admit that she was so easily fooled, so easily messed with. "I'm not. Now let's just turn back and pretend that this never happened."

"Fine!" Fiori stomped away, wanting to punch something. She _definitely_ wanted to punch the stupid Gamemakers! They had been playing these stupid games for a few days now, and Fiori was done with it! No, she didn't want to get into a skirmish. But at least it would have been more straightforward than this! Fiori knew better than to expect anything fair out of the Games, but she couldn't help but feel that the Gamemakers were being especially cruel to them.

It wasn't long, though, before Fiori spotted a blonde head in the distance. And then Adalicia's glaring face. "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

Adalicia rolled her eyes. "I wonder if people in the Capitol really watching this. There's probably quite a bit of entertainment factor in watching you get pissed."

"Okay, did I ask for your input?"

"No, not really." Adalicia had almost forgotten how good it felt to talk back to another person, despite the fact that Ash had only died a day ago. The thought made her entire mindset suddenly bitter. "Goodbye."

"Yeah, we both know that we're not getting anywhere."

"Did you really have to point that out?"

"Dialogue is more interesting than watching someone wandering around the woods, I guess."

"I will kill you with my words."

Fiori snorted at Adalicia's threat. The girl was really not very intimidating. "You can try."

"I think that's what I just said."

"Oh my chicken, I'm trapped in a nightmare."

Adalicia raised an eyebrow, and Fiori realized what she had said. Before Adalicia could say anything, Fiori spat out, "don't say a _word_."

Adalicia shrugged, and then by mutual agreement they turned in opposite directions and walked away in the hopes that maybe this time they woudln't run into each other again.

* * *

Landon wondered where Faustia was now. She was one of his biggest problems. Her and Kaede. And Zoe. And Kronos. And Hector. And probably Meri. And—

 _Stop. No. No more thinking about this._ Landon didn't think it was necessary to remind himself of how much of a loser he was. He had to assess his strengths, and from there, find his options. He was good at spreading believable rumors, after all, that was why he was here. But that didn't translate well to the Games. He was agile and good with knives, that counted for a lot. But as good as other people in the Arena? Probably not. He had a reason to come home, something to fight for, and Landon knew that he would fight forever if it meant seeing Kira and his mother again. But that wasn't something that would work as a suit of armor. He had to be better than the other Tributes in some ways.

And Landon knew that in the end, his skill set fell woefully short.

* * *

Hector's heart lit up as he saw a backpack that matched the one Meri had. He ran over to it, as if touching it would bring Meri back, but then remembered that when they had been separated, they had lost most of their supplies. He had probably seen this backpack more recently than Meri had. His heart fell.

It felt hopeless. It felt completely hopeless. How was Hector supposed to find Meri? There was no way to track each other, no way to know where the other was. Just believing in himself, just caring about Meri—that wasn't enough. Friendship wasn't enough to survive the Games.

The thought chilled him. Hector didn't consider himself a fool. He had been a rebel before being voted in, but the minute his name had been called, he had known that he was going to have to throw away his rebellious tendencies and thoughts if he wanted to survive. He had done so fairly well. And despite liking Meri, he had always known that it was his own life or hers, and he had been prepared to prioritize himself.

But had he? That conception was being thrown into doubt. The care he felt for Meri was much more than he should have allowed himself. He should have stayed distant, so that he could actually focus on surviving himself, rather than desperately trying to hunt down his District partner.

Maybe this _was_ completely selfish, though. Maybe if he found Meri, it meant that he was a good person. Maybe he just needed that confirmation. The best-case scenario at this point was that Hector's panic had never truly been about _her,_ but rather an extension of himself. But Hector knew, even as he had the thought, that it wasn't true. He cared about Meri for herself, because she was kind and funny and smart, because in the end, she truly deserved to return home more than he did.

Was it ridiculous that he had felt closer to her than he had to his father? _Yes, it has to be._ Was it ridiculous that he almost wanted her to win? _Yes. Absolutely._

He wished that they had met each other before now. He could imagine being friends with her back in District 4, hanging out together after school, getting to know each others' friends, learning more about each other than what they were forced to reveal in the Games.

Well, wishes were stupid. They weren't going to get him anywhere.

Hector left the backpack behind as he trekked into the woods once again.

* * *

"You're fucking kidding me," Adalicia said.

Fiori snorted. "Now _you're_ the one getting irritated."

"Oh, shut up."

 _Well,_ Fiori thought, _if the Gamemakers are trying to push me into killing Adalicia, it's not working._

* * *

 _Give me a break,_ Meri thought, dejected. The Gamemakers couldn't just throw her a bone for once and let her and Hector meet up again? How much trouble would it have been? They had power over everyone in the Arena. Her steps felt heavy, and her stomach was empty. She had eaten some bark, some berries, but nothing very substantial.

Something moved in the woods, and Meri immediately jumped to attention, her spear drawn. She carefully aimed it at the spot in the woods, simultaneously backing up in an effort to escape whoever it was. The build wasn't Hector's.

And then the humanoid shape stumbled beyond the tree where it had been hiding, and Meri screamed.

It appeared for all the world dead, its skin sagging and greenish, bones clearly visible in some places, with a slightly opened mouth and eyes that were completely blank. But more than that, it was her _mother._ The color of the eyes, the face, the clothes she was wearing—they were all from Meri's mother! Meri stumbled back, panicked, as the mutt closed in on her. "Get back!" Meri shouted, momentarily forgetting her other options. And why shouldn't she?! This was the corpse of her mother, stolen from its grave and used to taunt her!

But the corpse didn't say anything, moving closer, dragging its feet slightly. "Mother…" Meri whispered, frozen in horror.

Something else snapped in the woods, and it broke Meri out of her reverie. She turned on her heels, sprinting away. There were more dark shapes in the woods. Like a wave, they stepped out from behind the trees, silent and emotionless. Bile rose in Meri's throat, and she quickly spat to the side as she ran. She knew that she had to run faster. But she wasn't athletic! This was the best that she could do, and it wouldn't be enough! The blank faces stared at her. Meri shrieked as something emerged from a tree as she ran past it, grabbing at her, and she only barely dodged out of the way. She pushed herself off of another tree, trying to get more speed. Branches were cracking behind her, and the sound of stomping feet was getting louder and louder. The day suddenly went dimmer, plunging her into chilliness. The sun had gone behind a cloud.

 _Well, that's just great! I hope that you set a good mood for my death! You assholes!_

It seemed that the trees were getting denser too. Meri tried to see if the ground was moving in any places, but she was running too fast and she didn't have time to focus on it. She turned sideways, shuffling between two trees, and hurtled a branch that had somehow fallen to the ground despite all of the trees that could have blocked it. Every moment, every painful breath that she dragged in, was just another reminder of how much she hated the Gamemakers.

The woods were getting denser.

Meri could make out the face of the boy from 11 as she ran past another walking corpse, and she nearly lost her mind at the idea that all of the dead Tributes were chasing her now. Were they bitter? Would they make her death especially painful? What was Meri's death going to be like? Was her mother going to be the one to kill her? Meri wheezed for air, somehow managing to choke out a sob. _In, out, in, out...left, right, left, right...keep going!_

But she came to an impasse as the trees became too thick to run through. Desperately, she tried to move fast as she weaved and squeezed between trees with huge, thick trunks that grew together at the roots. The forest floor would have been a labyrinth for a mouse, with all of the thick roots that criss-crossed it. Meri tried to stay light on her feet as she moved, drawing her spear in close to her body so that she wouldn't get it stuck on anything.

Something touched her shoulder and Meri jumped back as she turned, stabbing forward with the spear. It went directly through the corpse in front of her, but Meri screamed, because the body on her spear like a worm on a hook was Jeanna from 8, still tiny in death. _I killed her! I killed a little girl!_ Meri tried to drag herself into control, but she couldn't manage it! Because all of her senses were simply reminding her of the fact that she had just stabbed a fourteen-year-old! Meri yanked her spear back, and Jeanna's body crumpled to the ground. _They didn't send the bodies back home! They kept the bodies in the Capitol!_ Meri caught sight of a face in the horde that matched the girl from 4 from three years ago. Something hummed in Meri's mind, because this didn't make sense, Meri had seen that body burned... _it was a fake! The Capitol kept the real bodies, they're going to keep my body_ —Meri couldn't keep herself from curling over and retching as she imagined her own corpse being used in one of these games later on.

She stabbed again with the spear, the weapon tearing through two of the corpses as easily as if they were paper. Meri scrambled back, taking the spear out of the bodies, and they collapsed, but the horde moved forward, stepping over the bodies easily. There was nowhere for Meri to run.

So she went on the offensive, going for the throats and trying to bring down two or three at a time. The spear ripped through the bodies of Paris and Khol and last year's District 4 girl. She drove the spear into the gut of Talon's corpse and watched as he collapsed. They might have been dead, but the blood looked very real, very fresh, and Meri just _knew_ that she was killing them all over again. Each kill in these Games had been hers. And there were still more of the mutts.

Then Meri saw her mother.

The corpse let out a low moan, reaching for her, and Meri went completely wild. She didn't stab, instead slashing as if she was holding a sword. Her spear swung around and hit her mother's head with a sickening crack. Meri's mother fell, but she rose again, undefeatable. "Don't!" Meri screamed. _Don't kill me! Don't do this! Don't make me kill you!_

Something lunged at her from the side, and Meri screamed again, kicking back the body of Percival. He wouldn't collapse, though, and Meri stabbed him where his heart would have been, squeezing between two trees and ducking around another one, completely on the run, trying to escape. She looked back, only to realize that the trees had immediately spread out as soon as she had gotten past them. The corpses could move with ease. Tears were running down Meri's cheeks as she realized how hopeless it all was.

Sobbing, Meri charged forward, stabbing at the corpse that was her mother.

Only, the corpse's hand reached out and caught the spear. It gave a heave, and it was all Meri could do to hold on. She yanked on it herself, and then there was a tug-of-war over it, and with a mighty heave Meri gripped the spear out of its grasp, but an arm came with it—

Meri waved the spear until the arm came off, but that was the wrong move, because then the other corpses were upon her—Meri punched Acacia's corpse in the nose and stabbed Robin's corpse through its blank, emotionless eye—she found herself looking for a Hector corpse, because she couldn't take it if he was dead—and then her mother had grabbed Meri's arm with the one remaining hand—

Meri didn't have a choice. She choked up on the spear, raising her arm and bringing the weapon forward through her mother's throat. The corpse released her arm, and Meri pushed it back, off of the spear. She stabbed another few mutts—

Only to come face-to-face with Jaxon. It was the corpse of her little brother, _Jaxon was dead,_ and Meri screamed, because the Gamemakers had killed her family—they weren't supposed to do that, they weren't _allowed!_ Jaxon and her father and Cain—they were all dead—and Meri hadn't protected them— _no! No! It was supposed to be me!_

Meri didn't even have the strength left to lift the spear. She sank to her knees, unable to keep herself from weeping, and then the first corpse was upon her. Meri tried to punch it, but it caught her fist, and then it squeezed with more force than it should have been allowed to have, and Meri couldn't do anything as it crushed her hand. And then something else was at her shoulder—her father—her father was hurting her, tearing through the muscle—

Meri screamed.

* * *

The second cannon of the day rang out, making Adalicia flinch. Another Tribute had died. _Eight of us left._ With surprise, a bit of relief, maybe a bit of pride, Adalicia realized that she had made it to the final eight. Two-thirds of the Tributes had died, but Adalicia hadn't been one of them.

With a chill, Adalicia realized that by all odds, the next death should be hers. She was the weakest Tribute left, the youngest one, the one with the least training or deadliness or determination. What chance did she have against any of the other Tributes left? Didn't it make more sense to join another alliance and hope that it could save her? Why couldn't she get her thoughts in order?

Adalicia tried to send out a silent _sorry_ to whoever had just died, as if that would make anything better, but found that she couldn't. Any of her sorries just seemed so useless now. She no power anymore. And it was time that she realized that.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Coro** **na (13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Florence, Kronos  
Fiori, Adalicia (kind of)

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Meri:** Meri was a really nice person who came off as a very genuine teenager, despite her environment. She wasn't as skilled as the people around her, but she got very far through her determination and through strength that she didn't really recognize she had in herself. Her relationship with Hector was very genuine and very fun to write. I think a lot of people were hoping that she could win, and I definitely considered it, because she is one of the people who really deserved it. Sadly, it just didn't make sense. RIP, Meri.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **The Gamemakers are crazy and cruel. Oh, wait, the Gamemakers are an expy for me. Sorry. I hope that this chapter was enjoyed and not too angsty. Sorry about killing Meri. My most sincere apologies go out to Hector. See you next update!**

 **IMPORTANT: Due to having finals next week, the next chapter might not be posted until Saturday/might not be very good in general. My apologies.**

 **QotW: Would you rather be trapped with someone you hate or separated from someone you cared about?**


	41. Nightfall

**Night 6:**

 **District 1**

"And we stand here live in District One with the family and friends of Adalicia Corona!" Adriana Rudolphine announced to the cameras. She was slightly annoyed with Adalicia's family. You could normally trust District 1 Tributes to have beautiful homes, but no, the Coronas lived in relative poverty. It was a real shame. Still, the show had to go on. "So, tell us, are you proud of how Adalicia has been doing so far?"

After a few moments of silence, Adalicia's father was the first to speak. "Absolutely. She's done so well, defied so many odds—she's performed beautifully."

After a few more moments of silence, Adriana glared at one of Adalicia's young friends, warning them that they better contribute something or she would send them back home. "I was very scared at the beginning," one of the young girls put in. "Adalicia is strong, of course, you can see that, but she's young."

"I knew she could do it," the other girl insisted. "She said that she was too weak, but we told her that she could do it."

"But still," the first girl said. "I was really worried. Now...I guess I have a little more hope."

Adriana almost wanted to glomp the little girl, she was just so cute! But stupid if she had any hope. Adalicia had a large sponsor base, of course, just like all of the younger, prettier Tributes had. But her odds were the worst, and the betting pools were all against her. Adalicia's mother finally spoke, and Adriana carefully observed her, because she had a lot of questions for Mrs. Corona about the deaths back in the winter. Adriana's favorite part of her job was hounding people to tears. It was just so fun! "Adalicia clearly isn't the most physically strong," Mrs. Corona said, "but that's never a reason for a mother to give up on her child." She swallowed, and Adriana knew she was close to tears. "I have the utmost hope that she'll come back. I _need_ her to come back. Every one of my thoughts is about her. And she hasn't disappointed any of us. She's stayed so wonderfully strong."

Adalicia's brother gave a terse nod. Adriana was going to have fun getting him to talk, but she didn't force the issue on the first question. "Alright. Next question…"

* * *

The last few notes of the anthem played, and Adalicia swallowed hard, not letting herself show any weakness. Fiori was just twenty feet away, past a few trees, and Adalicia knew that if she cried Fiori would feel obligated to comfort her in her own brusque manner. Neither of them wanted that.

Adalicia could feel a certain sense of dread, but also of acceptance. It was likely that the next death would be hers. Adalicia wasn't prepared to face that fact. She didn't want to die. The very idea of death, of the unknown, of whatever bullshit afterlife awaited—that made her cringe. She'd do anything to hold it off for just a little longer.

But she supposed that the least she could do was have a bit of pride as she faced it down. She didn't need to be broken entirely. Vasyklo would be watching, Adalicia knew that, and she tried to imagine that he was here with her now. He would give her a hug and promise her that things would be alright.

Well, that wasn't the reality. But at home, Adalicia knew that he would be watching and hoping. Maybe he would take up the illegal religions that existed in the hopes of praying her to whatever came next. He would do it in the best possible way that it could be done. He was just amazing like that.

 _Think of me,_ Adalicia thought to him. _Don't forget me._

Vividly, she could imagine him smiling or maybe crying, saying, ' _oh, sis, I never could.'_

* * *

 **District 2**

"What's the most stressful thing that's happened so far?" Adriana asked Faustia's family.

Mrs. Graston shrugged her shoulders. "I worry for my daughter as any mother would. However, Faustia's always been determined to honor our District, and for that reason I've been resigned to this for a long time. I considered myself prepared to watch these Games, and so far, that ideation has paid off."

Adriana nodded. She had pegged the Grastons as fine, upstanding, stereotypical District 2 citizens, and so far she had been correct. It was almost _boring_ how predictable they were. They were completely average in almost every way. Very dreary, not shiny like the Capitol liked.

"Same here," Mr. Graston agreed. "We've been preparing for this for a while. We've always just tried to support Faustia. However, I have to say that no matter how prepared you think you are, it's sometimes hard to watch your child go through challenges. The snakes, earlier...well, I was worried for her. Confident that she could get out, of course, but worried nonetheless."

Adriana nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure we can all relate. My mother says that every day I went to school was a day that she sat around in a panic."

The Grastons all laughed, and Adriana was offended by how forced it sounded. She turned to Faustia's sister, raising her eyebrows.

Livia shrugged, and then took a deep breath. "I'd like to say that I haven't been worried by this, but that's a huge lie. Sorry, Mother and Father." Mrs. Graston placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, and Livia smiled gratefully. "Literally every moment, ever since Faustia left, has been some sort of torture. She's strong, I know that, and she's always been so determined. But that doesn't stop me from worrying about her, because anything can happen. I think my heart rate is never going to go back to normal, and at least five of my coworkers have realized that something's wrong. So here it is: I'm so, _so_ worried about my little sister." Livia bit her lip. "Heh. She'd kill me for calling her that."

"She would," Mr. Grason agreed. "She's always been so independent."

"More mature that I am," Livia muttered.

"How cute!" Adriana squeed. "Which brings me to my next question."

* * *

So much death. There had been so much death. Kaede, Faustia's former ally...well, Faustia couldn't help but feel responsible for his death. Meri, who had almost been a Career...Faustia wondered how she could have made things go differently. Khol, who had somehow scored an eight, but who hadn't been a part of Faustia's Games at all...Khol was now dead. And Mist…

Well, Mist was dead. The person that had been one of Faustia's main enemies was dead. Faustia was well-aware of the fact that she, Mist, and Zoe had been set up as nemeses. There was her, the straight-laced, loyal District 2 Tribute, there was Mist, the powerhouse, slightly rebellious loose cannon, and there was Zoe, the sly, shadowy ingenue. With Mist dead, some of Faustia's own appeal must have collapsed. But that wasn't why Faustia felt so unnerved. She tried to figure out why she felt this way.

She realized that with the whole nemesis setup, she had gotten used to the idea that there would have been a showdown between her and Mist. It would have made good TV. It would have made sense with the plot of the Games. And yet, Mist was dead already. Faustia had always supposed that _she_ would have been the one to bring Mist down.

It was a strange thing to feel melancholy over. Facing Mist could have been Faustia's doom. She should be glad that someone else had dealt with the problem. And yet...it made Faustia feel almost as if her own role in the Games was being passed over, as if she was superfluous.

In the Hunger Games, being superfluous was one of the worst things possible.

* * *

 **District 4**

"If you could tell them to change one thing about their performance, what would it be?"

Mr. Hardy remained motionless as he considered the question. With the severe cut of his hair and gruff voice, he really met all of the stereotypes of being a Peacekeeper. "He needs to stop thinking about his District partner. Loyalty is admirable. But he's being a fool."

"Has Hector always been the type to get deeply entrenched into friendships?"

"I suppose so," Mr. Hardy answered. Adriana assumed he was thinking about Hector's friend Hermes. She certainly was. They had decided against interviewing Hermes for the reason that he had rebellious inclinations, and interviewing him would only hurt Hector's standing in the Capitol. That wasn't the point of the interviews. "He's a good son, a good kid, a good friend. But a damn fool much of the time."

Adriana turned to the other person they had decided to interview, Mr. Sutherland. Due to the relationship between Meri and Hector ( _it was so cute! A shame she died)_ it made sense to interview Mr. Sutherland. "Do you agree?"

Mr. Sutherland nodded. "Of course. I appreciate how far he brought my daughter. He treated her well, and I'm glad that she had some...some happiness, in her last days. But if he wants to survive, he needs to forget her." His voice had been straining throughout the sentence, and at the end his voice cracked as he began to weep. Adriana smiled sympathetically, moving on to the next question.

* * *

 _No no no no no no no...please, no, this can't be real...Meri...you've got to be alive!_

The instant that Meri's face had crossed the sky, Hector had lost all semblance of control. He hadn't bothered watching the rest of the anthem (he knew what a fool he was, but he didn't care!) and had immediately attacked the nearest tree. He didn't care who came across him! Let them come! He would destroy them, _obliterate_ them, because Meri was dead!

 _This is all my fault...I should have been there, I should have saved her...she should be alive! It's me that should be dead! Just bring her back, please, I'll do whatever it takes! You can have me, just let her live!_

It didn't matter how kind and funny she was, it didn't matter that she liked apples and tuna and watching the stars, that she hated getting stuck in the snow, it didn't matter that she had a family, friends, that she deserved _a life_ —she was dead! She was gone forever! Never again would Hector hear her laugh or see her frown!

 _How could I have let this happen?_ Hector thought. _How is this happening?_ He collapsed to the ground, tears coursing down his cheeks for the first time in years.

* * *

 **District 5**

"As a Victor, what do you think your child would be like?"

Mrs. Mercer gave a short smile that she quickly covered up. "I don't think Landon would know what to do. He always spent all of his time working. He never really had any hobbies. He was a very focused child. When he got the idea for something in his mind, it was impossible to sway him."

"Ah, yes...and in his time working, he spread the rumors that got him voted in, correct?"

Mrs. Mercer didn't show any weakness. "I don't believe that to be true."

Adriana catalogued this weakness so that she could bring it up later and turned to smile at Landon's little sister. "What about you?"

"Landon would be the best Victor!" Kira Mercer exclaimed. "People say he's not nice, but he's nice when he has time for it. He just can't afford to be nice when he's thinking about us. But if he was a Victor, then he could start being as considerate towards everyone else as he is to us."

Kira was too old to believe such a naive thing. And she was conducting herself well, but it was obvious to a trained social scientist like Adriana that she was just playacting a role to help her brother. It was cute, but ultimately futile.

* * *

There were a few things that Landon knew were bad signs. The first was that Kaede and Mist were both dead, which meant both that Hector was a strong Tribute with a vendetta against Landon, and that someone out there was strong enough to take out Mist. The next was that Faustia and Zoe and the District 9 Tributes were still alive, which meant that Landon would have to face them. The third thing was that Landon himself was surprised that he had made it this far. That meant that not only was he weak, but everyone, including himself, was aware of this fact.

 _I want to get back to you,_ Landon thought to his mother and Kira. _More than anything. And I said that I would do anything to do so, and that wasn't a lie. But I'm not sure if it's possible any more. And for that, I'm sorry._

 _Oh, fuck this!_

Landon would have glared at a mirror if there was one. Instead, he settled for pinching himself. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You're still alive, and as long as you're still breathing, you have a chance!_ He was being an idiot, and he had to get himself out of the rut he was in. It was the only way to survive.

* * *

 **District 6**

"Would you call yourselves good parents?"

Adriana could tell that Mr. and Mrs. Winter (who had been nearly impossible to hunt down) were surprised and very uncomfortable with this question. She doubted that they had been very good parents, due to the fact that they were gang leaders so prominent that they couldn't be arrested without causing more trouble than they were making by being on the streets, and sure enough, Mr. Winter deflected the question.

"I didn't think that this interview was supposed to be about us."

"To get to know your child, we need to know their childhood. We need to know _you,_ " Adriana answered.

"Standards of parenting are different everywhere," Mrs. Winter sighed. "What might seem bad to a District One parent could seem far too luxurious for a District Twelve parent." Adriana snickered at the District 12 jibe. "We weren't very close with her, I suppose, but we raised her to be strong. This discussion is closed."

"Alright. Moving on…"

"Would you call yourself a good friend?" Adriana later asked Angelica, Zoe's one friend.

"I don't know if I can judge myself very well," Angelica said, her eyes darting around the room. She had been nervous ever since they had brought her in. Then again, due to her Skull ties, Adriana wasn't very surprised. "Zoe seemed to enjoy our time together," Angelica continued, "she would smile more than was usual for her. I liked her a lot. I know she doesn't seem like it, but she can be very nice, very funny, if she wants to. And she liked Nathan, so that was a plus."

"Nathan?"

"My brother. They were…" Angelica trailed off.

"Dear, I know that you don't want to betray Zoe's trust, but everything that you tell us will help Zoe get a larger fanbase. Do you want to help your friend or not?"

Angelica's unassuming face suddenly turned to a glare. She kept her mouth shut, and Adriana ushered her away. "Go home, dear. You're not useful to us." As soon as Angelica was gone, Adriana turned to the cameraman. "Make a note. Edit this interview to be as bad as possible for Miss Winter. I _hate_ District upstarts."

* * *

Zoe felt strangely elated as she watched the faces in the sky. Of the eight left, she was one of the strongest. She wasn't stupid enough to believe that the home stretch would be easy, but...she had made it. She had made it to the home stretch. She had a good chance of making it home.

But home to what?

There would be Angelica, Zoe knew that. Angelica must have been watching right now. Angelica would be proud of Zoe, she would be waiting for Zoe to come home. But other than that, Zoe didn't think that there was anyone that actually wanted her to be there. She certainly wasn't one of the most deserving Tributes. So with Nathan gone, and with a world outside of the Arena that hated her, what was the point of fighting to go home? Life couldn't offer her very much any more. The Capitol was fickle and cruel, District 6 didn't want her, and if the rest of the Districts _hadn't_ hated her before she had stabbed Khol in the back, then they certainly did now.

 _You know what? Fuck 'em._

Zoe realized, with a bit of pride, that she didn't care whether they hated her or not. She had been raised on hate. Hate was something that she could handle. Fuck the opinions of the people watching, and fuck the consequences of her actions. Zoe would deal with those as they came.

Sometimes, life was its own reason for living.

* * *

 **District 9**

"How do you feel, knowing who your child really is?"

Mrs. Channing blanched at the question, her lip trembling. Mr. Channing shuddered a bit, but remained mostly motionless. Florence's sister Cassidy had been shaking since Adriana had started the interview. Adriana repeated the question when no one answered.

Finally, Mr. Channing spoke. "I...I suppose—I suppose that I don't quite...understand. She never acted this way...it's so new...and I can't see how this is her...but...well, the cameras don't lie. She's really...well, I never believed the rumors—I guess that I should've."

It was a while before someone else spoke. But when someone finally did, it was Cassidy. "I knew," she mumbled. "I didn't tell. I should've."

Mrs. Channing burst into tears. Adriana tried to coax Cassidy into talking more, but Cassidy kept her lips pressed together in a thin line, refusing to make a sound. Her breaths were shallow. Adriana could tell that Cassidy had been seriously damaged by her time as Florence's little sister. They could edit in that psychological analysis as part of the interview. Adriana wasn't going to deal with Cassidy's problems.

"Mrs. Channing? What do you think?"

Mrs. Channing shook her head. For a moment, there was only the sound of her sobs. But then, she finally spoke. "I should hate her, I know that I should, anyone who says that she's a monster might be right and I can't blame them. But she's my daughter! My child! And I don't hate her! I don't think I'm ever going to be able to—and you wouldn't understand—but I can't help but love my child—"

She broke down completely, going into hysterics. Mr. Channing held her, and she wept into his shoulder. Cassidy pulled her legs to her chest and tried to make herself small. Adriana did _not_ want to be dealing with this.

The interview after that was with Florence's friend Priya. She kept her speech short and abrupt. "Florence is evil. Just evil. What everyone said—that she killed Jeff DuVal, that she killed her _own brother_ —they're right. I'm ashamed that I was friends with her. And I hope that I never see her again."

As she left, Adriana realized that Priya probably would have been Florence's next victim.

Mr. Malakai was another stoic person. He obviously didn't care for talking, and it would have been easy to believe he wasn't emotionally attached to his son, but he did his best to give a speech on Kronos's behalf. "Kronos has always been a strange kid, you know? But not a monster. Not a psychopath like you see on the screen. There's a big difference between killing animals and killing people, and there's a big difference between killing people in the Games and killing them outside of the Arena. Kronos is doing what he has to do. He's nothing like the Channing girl. She's the murderer. Not him."

"You vouch for your son, then."

"Hm." Mr. Malakai was silent for a moment. "I'll tell you one thing. He has an old dog, mangy thing, that follows him around. That dog loves him."

"And?"

 _And nothing,_ apparently, because with that, Mr. Malakai got up and walked out of the studio.

* * *

 _Final Eight._ Kronos supposed that this was pretty amazing. It was farther than anyone had expected him to get. Kronos didn't feel very much emotion towards it. He was glad to be alive another day, but nothing in him actually wanted to win. If he made it to the Final 2, he didn't plan on actually fighting. Kronos didn't want to drag out his meaningless existence any longer.

Florence, though—he knew that she would. She would fight as hard as she could. She wanted to live. She was like a wildfire, crackling merrily as she scorched through other people's lives and left nothing but charcoal behind. As long as she had something to feed her flames, she wasn't going to die. It was terrifying, but at the same time beautiful.

But Kronos had to know the truth. "Did you kill him?"

Florence giggled. "Of course I did. I thought that everyone knew the truth."

"Not Jeff DuVal," Kronos clarified. "Draven. Draven Channing."

There was silence. Kronos heard Florence sit up, but only half-heartedly gripped his scythe. He listened to the sound of her breathing, and then she finally spoke.

"Yeah. I killed him."

Kronos found that he was actually a bit surprised. Killing one's own brother...that was callous. But Kronos didn't have a brother. Maybe he would understand if he did have one. He sat up, too, and moved slightly closer to her. She didn't move away, or even make any motions, just staring at the lake in front of them.

"...why?" Kronos ventured.

 _Why,_ what a stupid question! Florence would never be able to explain _why_ she had drowned him because no one would ever understand, no one _could_ understand her, nor were they _worthy_ , Draven had stolen everything but he was just a stupid little boy and Florence had proven that she was stronger, she had proven her worth! But to not answer was to be weak, and so Florence laughed. "Every reason in the world."

Kronos was silent, and Florence wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he asked, "why do you hold on to the picture?"

"Good question." Florence pulled out the crumpled picture of Draven. His stupid face grinned up at her. She balled it up in her fist, but couldn't make herself throw it. She wanted it where she could watch it and know that it wasn't...well, wasn't doing anything weird. "I suppose that I like the reminder. What about your token?" There was a sweet irony to knowing that Kronos's token was in her own pocket. "What does it mean to you?"

Kronos wasn't going to answer that question, but he reached for the coin anyway, only to find that the pocket was empty. Suddenly, he felt a lump in his throat. He quickly swallowed it down. Disappointment was a stupid emotion. And the very _idea_ of caring about anything was ridiculous. Kronos didn't care that his one reminder of home was gone. "Nothing," he answered. "It means nothing."

* * *

 **District 10**

"Do you think your child can win?"

Mrs. Hart hadn't shown much emotion throughout the interview, and she didn't let her facade crack now. She simply gave a small nod. "I do."

"Despite all of the competition?"

"You've seen how Fiori has done so far. She might not be the most aggressive Tribute out there, or the strongest, or the smartest...well, now I sound like I'm insulting her. The point is, she's made it this far, and it'll take a lot to make her die now."

"Fiori can win because she's determined," Fiori's sister Nikki put in. "No matter what it takes, if she wants something, she'll get it. And she wants to get home. She told me. She promised."

"And she keeps her promises?"

"Always."

And so despite Fiori's rebellious tendencies, despite the fact that she was one of the weakest Tributes left and had allied herself with the youngest person in the Arena, despite the fact that Fiori was too angry to be a good Victor, Fiori's family believed in her. Adriana was almost impressed. It was sweet. She would have enjoyed watching all of those hopes going up in flames.

* * *

"Fine!" Fiori heard.

She rolled over so that she could located Adalicia's small form. The younger girl was sitting up. Fiori felt a small bit of pride at the knowledge that they were in the world's most awkward alliance. Neither of them had wanted this. But getting through the day without killing each other? That was a huge _fuck you_ to the Gamemakers. And Fiori was always up for that.

"You really want this?" Fiori hollered back.

"Oh, shut up!"

"Cool! Yeah, I'm not acknowledging this, and neither should you!"

"Sounds good to me!"

And yet, Fiori got up and dragged her stuff closer to where Adalicia was, maybe within seven feet of the younger girl. Adalicia didn't glare, which was probably a miracle for her. Fiori lay down and stared up at the stars, finally ready to fall asleep.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Coro** **na (13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D6: Zoe Winter (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Florence, Kronos  
Fiori, Adalicia

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Not exactly a chapter, but I wanted to show the interviews because they're fun to write. In personal news, finals are over for me, which is a huge relief. I hope that everyone enjoyed, see you next week!**

 **QotW: What is your ideal chapter length?**


	42. What is Necessary

**Day 7:**

Fiori woke up some time in the middle of the night. The stars were glimmering overhead, and as she exhaled, she could see her breath turning to steam on the wind. The night was getting cold. Winter was coming. Fiori wished that she had some sort of blanket to bundle herself under.

She missed the feeling of being cosy, she supposed. She hadn't appreciated the pure beauty of staying home from school or work, huddled under the blankets with Nikki, because it was too cold to go outside. Those days had been bad. They had meant that it was freezing anywhere other than in bed, and that there wouldn't be the salary from that day. But Fiori would've given anything to be back home for another winter.

She tried to shift and then realized that something warm was pressed against her stomach. Fiori immediately panic, starting to flail, expecting a giant spider or evil squirrel or something—but no, it was just Adalicia. Fiori pushed herself onto her elbows, looking down at Adalicia. The girl must have twisted while sleeping, and now her head was pressed into Fiori's side. She looked very young, very peaceful, while sleeping. It kind of reminded Fiori of Nikki.

Fiori sighed, lying back down. Something inside of her felt empty. Fiori realized that she missed Nikki. She hadn't expected to miss her little sister so much. Nikki was a big part of Fiori's life, and Fiori wouldn't trade her away for anything, but Nikki could be a huge annoyance. She enjoyed breaking up the silence whenever Fiori wanted a quiet moment, stealing Fiori's homework, dragging Fiori to meet her friends, whether they were other thirteen-year-olds or random people she had met on the street. (Fiori always yelled at Nikki afterwards, warning her to be careful, but Nikki was adopted, having grown up on the streets—but now Fiori was getting nostalgic.) She wondered whether to push Adalicia away from her, but she didn't have it in her. Fiori knew that she didn't deserve having someone else trust her, but she missed the feeling.

 _Shut up,_ Fiori growled at herself. _Don't be an idiot! She's gotta die for you to go home, and you don't fucking jeopardize your own chances for this girl you don't know!_ Adalicia wasn't a very nice person anyway. Sure, she was young and impressionable and it totally made sense that she was angry, but she had spent all of the last day insulting Fiori and trying to push her away. Fiori was sure that in the morning, Adalicia would be incredibly pissed to find out that she and Fiori had been so close.

 _Ugh. You'll just have to deal with it._ Fiori knocked her head against her makeshift pillow a few times to try and clear her mind— _you idiot, that makes no sense_ —and tried to go back to sleep.

Adalicia felt something cold and wet hit her, and angrily wiped at her face as she opened her eyes. She was shocked by the blinding light that hit her, and then quickly turned her head as she saw snowflakes coming down at her. She pulled her jacket tighter over her shoulders, shivering. "Well. Winter."

Fiori was a few feet away. She had a small fire going, and she had rigged a piece of cloth to hang a few feet over the fire. Probably to block smoke from getting into the sky. "Good morning," Fiori quietly said to her.

Adalicia nodded back, the events of the last night coming back to her. _Well, I guess I'm in another alliance._ This was probably good. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that disaster would be coming towards her. She just couldn't get close to Fiori.

"Do we have breakfast?" Adalicia let herself ask.

"I have a few fruit strips."

"Delicious."

Silently, a silver parachute glided down towards them. Eagerly, Adalicia reached towards it, before getting herself under control. She couldn't let herself act immature, not at this stage in the game. The parachute landed in front of them along with the snow, and Adalicia opened it to reveal some sort of brown sludge.

"Oatmeal," Fiori said.

Adalicia nodded, recognizing it as the food that they had been reduced to eating since the accident had occurred. She bent down and opened some brown paper packages. There were little bits of dried fruit and some brown sugar. "Let's eat."

They ate in silence. But when Fiori tried some of the brown sugar, her face got all shocked, and Adalicia couldn't help but giggle. "Is this your first time eating brown sugar?"

"Shut up!" Fiori snapped, and then admitted, "yes."

"It's good, right?"

"How is it different from real sugar?"

Adalicia shrugged, feeling embarrassed that she didn't know. "I'm not sure."

Fiori nodded, though, and Adalicia felt a sudden shock of camaraderie. She realized that because both she and Fiori didn't know something, they could find common ground in how unprivileged they were. But Adalicia remembered how much richer District 1 was than District 10 and suddenly felt embarrassed at how much better of a life she had been given. "Did you have oatmeal often in District Ten?"

"Yeah. It was pretty cheap, as things went." Fiori bit her lip, tasting some blood as she remembered the humiliation and anger that came from being forced to eat oatmeal, day after day, until they couldn't even afford that. The Peacekeepers had laughed at them. But Fiori hadn't even cared that they were reduced to eating the disgusting tesserae loaf. The oatmeal was slimy and flavorless and she had hated it. She had promised herself that someday, she would march into the Capitol at the head of an army and then she would eat all of the delicacies that the Capitol had offered. That, or destroy them all.

The steam coming off of the oatmeal warmed her face, though, and that was sort of pleasant.

"What was your favorite food?"

"That's not your business."

"Okay, I was just _asking._ No need to get so worked up."

"Hey, I have a fun idea. Let's play the quiet game."

"There's no need to treat me like a child," Adalicia snapped.

"You _are_ a child."

"I—" Adalicia couldn't retort to that for some reason, and Fiori smirked.

"You know, you're kind of cute when you're not being sarcastic. I guess that's just a thing."

* * *

Hector listlessly lay against a tree as the snow fell around him. It was cold and wet, perfect for making into shapes. Meri would have loved this. She had liked seeing winter for the first time. Hector had been used to it, but he had appreciated the wonder that Meri had held within herself. It had been sort of beautiful.

 _Capitol,_ she _was beautiful._ Everything about her had been beautiful—her laugh, the way she was sort of lazy but always did what needed to be done, how determined she was, how she could smile and light up the world. _You idiot,_ Hector thought to himself. _You let yourself get attached._

There was no doubt about it, Hector was grieving. _Grieving!_ Grieving one of his opponents, a person that had to die to bring him home! But he didn't care! He would rather Meri have gone home than him!

 _Oh._

The realization, the revelation that he was the biggest fool that could exist within the Games, nearly shocked him out of his reverie. You couldn't be selfless in the Games. If Hector thought that he could have prioritized someone else, then he was probably delusional.

He had to get up. He had to start working for his victory. He had to prove himself once again, prove that he was strong and could survive against the others. He had to hunt. He had to admit to himself that it was never about Meri, that it was about him, and that he had always had the ability to throw away her life for his.

He almost wanted to believe that he was selfish. That belief would make the pain within him, the pain and rage and apathy, all go away.

But he couldn't make himself believe that. With every breath he took, he knew he would have sacrificed himself, sacrificed everyone in this Capitol-forsaken Arena, sacrificed most of the world, if it meant that Meri could be safe at home.

 _I'm a fool._

But Hector couldn't regret it.

* * *

Zoe padded across the snow, trying to get to a place where she had seen a parachute fall. A few minutes ago, amidst the snow, Zoe was pretty sure that she had seen a silver parachute float down out of the sky. Whether or not it was meant for her, it would be a gift: finding another Tribute.

Sadly, the parachute had sunken beneath the tree line a few moments after Zoe had first spotted it, and Zoe wasn't exactly sure where she was going anymore. She was trying to go in the general direction of the parachute and hope that she stumbled across the owner of it, but she could have been going completely sideways, and simply wouldn't know it.

Well, she would just have to see.

 _Side. Side. Back._ Zoe repeated the location of her three remaining knives to herself. She enjoyed the comforting weight of the weapons. As long as she had her knives, she could defend herself. She just needed to be quick on the draw and ready to attack anyone she came across. As a mental exercise, she ran through the faces of the other seven Tributes. She had to be ready to kill them all. The little girl from 1 was the one that seemed the worst, though. Zoe couldn't imagine looking into a thirteen-year-old's eyes and killing them. Still, she tried to visualize it. She had to be ready.

 _I guess I never look into people's eyes. That's my thing._ Guiltily, Zoe thought of Khol and how she had stabbed Khol in the back. That had been a simple death. And Mist...Zoe hadn't looked into her eyes either.

 _None of this matters. It's all the same in the end._ Because in the end, they would all be dead, and Zoe would be alive.

* * *

Faustia was following a set of footprints. She had fortuitously come across them earlier, and as the snowfall had gotten heavier, she had been able to follow them more easily. Sadly, she was leaving tracks behind herself, so she tried walking in the footsteps of whoever had been here. Their feet were around the same size as hers, slightly larger. Still, after a few minutes of trying to balance herself, Faustia realized that no matter whether she left prints of her own, the original prints would still be there. Someone would be able to follow her.

Faustia bit her lip. She had to stop worrying about this. _Let_ someone follow her. If they did, it would be their downfall. Faustia wasn't supposed to be scared. She was one of the trained Tributes, a fearsome District 2 warrior. They should fear her, not the other way around.

 _But if I was another Tribute, would I be afraid of me?_ Faustia knew that she hadn't done very much. Then again, that didn't mean that she wouldn't have been able to do something if she had the opportunity. Besides, the other Tributes didn't know how little she had done so far. As far as they knew, she was strong.

Faustia just tried to hold onto that hope, and onto the certainty that she had her training, as she followed the tracks.

* * *

Rubbing his hands together to gain some warmth and feeling in them, Landon considered the tree in front of him. It was a pine with lots of branches that were good for climbing. He wanted to get to higher ground, both so that he would stop leaving those damned tracks behind him, and so that he could try and locate other Tributes. It was the final 8, and if he wanted any actual sponsoring, he had to step up his game. He hadn't made himself out to be the most friendly or charismatic Tribute during the interviews or during the earlier parts o the Games. Now, he needed to get audience support for himself.

 _This is stupid. Nothing I do now is going to change the audience's view of me._ Still, Landon thought that he at least had to try. It was strange. Back in District 5, if Landon had even the smallest idea that he wouldn't succeed at something, he wouldn't even bother attempting that option until it was the absolute final choice he had. But now, Landon knew that as much of a long shot as this choice was, it was probably the most useful thing he had left.

 _That's kind of sad._

Landon tried to ignore that fact as he wrapped his hands around two low branches and started to hoist himself up. He got a good foothold on the bark and then moved his legs to the lowest branches, moving his hands higher on the tree and using it like a ladder. He kept moving up. The bark was too rough under his hands, and Landon could feel them starting to bleed, but he couldn't lose traction by putting his gloves on.

 _Suck it up and deal with it._ Landon had been through worse. He could get through this, too.

* * *

"Do you think we should be doing something?" Kronos asked Florence.

Florence shrugged. "Who cares?"  
"Lots of people that are watching right now."

"Well, they can watch someone else. I'm tired."  
"Are you even going to be able to sleep right now? It's pretty cold."

"Do you like the snow, Kronos?"

Kronos was unnerved by the non sequitur. "I haven't really considered it."

"In that case, you should definitely just sit still and enjoy the snow. Appreciate the natural beauty of the planet, or whatever. Right now, I'm going to sleep."  
Kronos respected the strength in that choice, and right now, a bit more rest seemed like a nice thing. Still, he couldn't help but think that they needed to be more active.

 _What does it even matter? If I have my way, I'll be dead by the end of the week._

Kronos lay back down and looked at the sky. With the snow falling down towards him, Kronos could almost imagine that he was moving upwards, flying through the clouds.

Almost.

* * *

There were two of them. Adalicia and Fiori.

Zoe didn't let herself feel anything at the sight of her ex-ally. She simply took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to do. The two of them were sitting around a small, guarded fire, talking about something. Easy targets. Zoe tried to figure out how to best attack them. She could attack from behind one of them, but the other would be alerted to her presence. She could climb a tree and drop down on them, but she'd really have one chance to tackle the two of them, and then she would be at a disadvantage. Could she take both of them? They had both scored well. And they were better fed than she was, if the food package was any indication. Zoe didn't want to make a mistake. Mistakes were deadly.

She needed to catch both of them off guard, somehow.

She found a large stick on the ground and worked up her strength for the coming battle, then tossed the stick as far as she could. By some fortune, it didn't hit any trees, instead flying straight through the woods. Its landing was somewhat muted by the snow on the ground, but Adalicia and Fiori went alert, looking at the woods. Zoe threw a second stick, and saw them both look in that direction.

 _Come on. Come on. Check it out. See what's going on._

Fiori made her way to where Zoe had thrown the sticks, but Adalicia was still looking around fearfully. But as soon as Adalicia was watching Fiori again, Zoe sprinted out of the woods, tackling Adalicia. Adalicia screamed, but it was too late, as Zoe brought her knife down. But Adalicia was squirming desperately, and Zoe missed, slamming the knife into her shoulder. Adalicia wailed in pain, but then Zoe felt something bowl her over.

She was wrestling with Fiori in the snow now. Fiori's face was in an enraged glare, and she straddled Zoe, putting one hand around Zoe's throat and pushing down, using her other fist to punch Zoe in the face once, twice, three times. But as Fiori tried to punch her the fourth time, Zoe bit Fiori's knuckles and swung her knife towards Fiori's hand, stabbing her. Fiori screamed, and Zoe unseated her—

But before Zoe could stab Fiori, Adalicia tackled her. Zoe had to toss her knife to the side to avoid stabbing herself as she fell onto her front, Adalicia sitting on her back. Zoe rolled, and Adalicia rolled off, but then Fiori was upon her again, knife in hand—

Zoe scrambled up. _Fuck._ Things had gone wrong. She waited for Fiori to make the first move, stabbing forward, and dodged around it. She kicked the back of Fiori's knee and moved towards Adalicia, catching Adalicia's knife blow on the pommel of her own knife and giving Adalicia a roundhouse kick to the chest. She threw a knife backwards and heard Fiori yell as the knife hit her. But then a knife when flying past Zoe, just missing her throat, and Zoe knew that she was close to death. Zoe turned and sprinted at Fiori, tackling the injured girl. But Fiori took a step back, balancing herself, and strong-armed Zoe.

Desperately, Zoe pushed back, knowing she was running out of time. She tried to escape Fiori's grasp, but Fiori held on for dear life. She was bleeding from the leg. The blood on the snow was dazzling.

"Kill a kid?" Fiori spat at her. Zoe grunted as she strained, trying to get Fiori to let go. "You'd kill a kid. You _monster!_ "

"I'm not a monster," Zoe hissed. "Hypocrite."

Something wet hit her, and Zoe realized that Fiori had spat in her face. Zoe changed tactics, falling on purpose and kicking upwards as she did so. She missed Fiori initially, but Zoe's weight dragged Fiori down, and Fiori fell onto her leg, grunting in pain. Zoe shifted her weight so that one of Fiori's legs was being twisted painfully. _Back. Left._ Zoe grabbed the left knife, lifting it over her head. But Fiori punched her in the chest, and Zoe recoiled. A small part of her wondered if the sponsors were enjoying this display.

Zoe didn't let Fiori defeat her, bringing out both knives. Fiori only had one, and she swung, but Zoe used one knife to push that arm to the side and stabbed forward. Fiori threw the knife away and backed up, but she was out of room and out of time—

And then Zoe was floored again. _You're fucking kidding me!_ She swung at Adalicia, but Adalicia dodged the blows, and Zoe's arms swung into each other, the two knives meeting in a sickly scream.

"You! Won't! Hurt! My! Ally!" Adalicia screamed, bringing her knife down.

She hadn't been expecting the knife to hit. She had assumed that Zoe would have blocked it.

But Fiori didn't—and the knife slid through flesh—

The cannon fired, and Adalicia was frozen in position, her hands on the knife that was now in Zoe's chest. She gasped, realizing what she had done.

"She's not—she's not—" Adalicia found Fiori and desperately said, "she's not dead—"

"Adalicia." Fiori moved in and helped Adalicia stand, but Adalicia's legs weren't working, and Fiori was forced to help her sit down. "Adalicia, we need to get out of here so they can retrieve—retrieve the body."

"But—she's not—"

"Come on, Adalicia." Panic was clouding Fiori's mind. What if Adalicia had snapped completely?

But Adalicia was silent as Fiori led her away.

She felt unburdened. She had broken the curse of all of her allies dying. She hadn't run away.

She felt completely weighed down by guilt. She had killed someone. Zoe should have lived, not her. She wasn't supposed to be a survivor. She was supposed to be cannon fodder.

 _What do I do now?_ Adalicia wondered.

She looked at Fiori, and realized that the warmth in her hand was Fiori's hand, leading her away, and Adalicia knew that staying with Fiori had been a mistake.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Coro** **na (13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18)**  
 **D5: Landon Mercer (17)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Florence, Kronos  
Fiori, Adalicia

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Zoe:** I don't think anyone expected Zoe to die next. She was easily one of the, if not the, strongest Tribute left. She had what it took to survive the Games. She was a very hardened person who had seen too much for her age. Sadly, she took on too much, and luck just wasn't on her side. She deserved a happy life with Nathan and Angelica, and I hope that she meets up with Nathan in the afterlife. RIP, Zoe.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Another very strong character dead. Things will be getting more action-filled as we near the end of the Games. I hope everyone enjoyed.**

 **QotW: Are you mature or immature for your age?**


	43. The Storm

**Day 7:**

"Oh my Capitol. Oh my Capitol."

 _Oh my chicken. Oh my chicken,_ Fiori thought every time Adalicia said those stupid words. She walked next to Adalicia, hovering a few inches away from her, wondering just how she could help the younger girl. She didn't want to touch Adalicia, that would be weird. And she couldn't comfort her without sounding like a callous killer, a _Career._ Of _course_ Adalicia was panicking! She had killed someone!

"Oh my Capitol. Oh my Capitol."

Adalicia looked over her shoulder again, wide-eyed, as if she was expecting Zoe's corpse to be following them. "Oh my Capitol. Oh my Capitol."

 _They're not listening, Adalicia,_ Fiori thought with some pain. _Or, if they are, they're licking their lips at how much you're breaking down._

"You wanna sit down?" Fiori asked again.

"No!" Adalicia shouted, jumping back, her eyes wide and panicked.

"Okay. Let's just get farther. That's cool." Fiori quickly began moving again, wondering if anyone had heard Adalicia scream. _She could just be quieter_ — _okay, I need to calm down._ Fiori wondered if she could just dump Adalicia now. Adalicia had become a complete liability. Fiori couldn't afford that at this stage in the game.

 _Why am I like this?!  
_ Fiori couldn't abandon her ally! A little girl! That would make her an awful person! She had to at least help Adalicia however she could! _Get it together, Hart!_

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Adalicia shook her head wildly.

"Okay."

Adalicia, for her part, didn't know what she was thinking. Zoe was dead, Adalicia knew that much—but was she?! What if she was still alive?! Adalicia could still feel Zoe's blood pouring over her hands, of course, but what if Zoe had managed to survive?! _I felt her stop breathing! I felt her life drain out of her body!_ But what if Zoe was still alive?!

She was alive somewhere, Adalicia knew it, because Zoe was strong. Too strong to be killed by a little feather of a girl like Adalicia. Zoe never would have let herself die. She was waiting, waiting for Adalicia to come into her clutches so that she could kill her.

 _Oh my Capitol_ — _Vasyklo_ — _I don't want to die_ — _please don't let me die, don't let her kill me_ —

Something moved in the woods behind them, and Adalicia jumped, grabbing Fiori's arm like a lifeline. "What was that?!"

Fiori stared at the woods, a little unnerved. She felt as if she had seen something as well. Another Tribute would have attacked already, right? It was probably just a mutt or animal. "Let's keep moving, Adalicia. It's going to be okay."

"Don't say that! Don't lie!"

Fiori opened her mouth to say, _it's not a lie,_ but shut her mouth again. Of course it was a lie! Everything that she could tell Adalicia would be a lie! Because once you killed someone, there was no coming back. Bile rose in Fiori's throat as she remembered Paris, remembered what it had been like to stab him, to watch as he had taken his last breath. He would always be with her, floating at the edges of her vision, an unshakeable ghost.

 _Stop that. I'm going to need to kill if I'm going to get out of here!_ Fiori knew that she was going to have to take a life again.

Was she ready for it? Fiori didn't want to face that question. But was anyone ever ready to kill another person? Wasn't that the real question?

 _I'll have to be ready,_ Fiori reminded herself. _And what really matters is that I'm certainly not going to let myself die._

Fiori's jaw worked as she glared into the forest, determination flooding her muscles. She felt as if she could rip through this Arena. She could feel the end of the Games coming, and she was going to be alive to experience them.

"Come on," she told Adalicia. "Let's walk."

"Okay," Adalicia breathed, panicked.

She set the pace for them, practically running as she walked over the deepening snow. Snowflakes kept falling from the sky, ethereal, no longer beautiful. Was every one of them unique, like her mother had said? Or were they all just Capitol-made clones? And why did Adalicia trust anything that her mother said, when her mother was the reason she was here?

Adalicia couldn't handle being here, not with the blood behind her and the dark trees in front. And certainly not winter.

* * *

It was the snow. It was the damn snow.

It made it hard for Landon to move, too hard. He was used to picking his way through crowded streets, over drunks and broken bottles, and through factories with machinery coming at him from both sides and more machinery on the floor. But not through snowy forests in the middle of winter.

Every step that he took was a struggle. He had to lift his feet high enough to clear the snow, and when he brought his foot down, it sunk through at least a foot of snow. And it was starting to soak through his pants, too. Sighing, Landon once again considered getting to higher ground, but that had been a disaster. He was leaving ridiculous footprints, too. But it was getting too cold to be immobile, and besides, Landon needed to either find food or another Tribute.

He brought his foot down again and screamed, collapsing into the snow.

He writhed for a moment, trying to escape whatever creature had bit him. He didn't understand what was happening! He had just been walking, and now this intense, incomprehensible agony had consumed him! Every moment just made it worse. _Calm down!_

Finally, he stopped moving, his leg in complete agony. He gently huffed, trying to get himself together. It was the kind of pain that he could feel in his throat, in his heart, the kind of pain that made his chest feel like it was collapsing. His eyes were watering. It was too cold for that, his tears would surely freeze. And all around him, this damned snow was picking up.

 _What_ — _I don't_ —

He reached down, feeling down his leg until he came to something cold and hard. He retched, twisting to face the snow, almost too afraid to continue to find out what had a grasp on his leg. The phrase _ignorance is bliss_ had never seemed more true.

 _No stop it. No one is going to come to help you, so suck it up. Deal with it._

Landon reached down and pulled his leg out of the snow.

He saw the bear trap and _did_ throw up. He vomited into the snow, the disgusting smell rising. When his stomach was good and clear, he retched for a bit longer, dry-heaving, and then turned back. He had stepped into a bear trap, and now it was clamped into his leg. He was surprised that his foot hadn't been torn off yet, the way the teeth were biting in. He let out a strangled sob, trying to handle the pain, but it was proving impossible! It hurt too much!

 _Oh, Capitol_ — _what do I do?_ He looked around and spotted a hint of twine in the trees. A deadfall trap. Looking around, he saw a few more things that could be hostile. This entire section of the woods had been set with traps. But by who?

 _Probably the District Nine freaks,_ he realized. He breathed deeply and then gave up, hyperventilating slightly. _Oh no, oh no_ — _it hurts, so bad_ — _Mother, what am I supposed to do_ —

There was only one thing that Landon _could_ do. He had to get out of here before the trapper returned.

* * *

 _Wake up,_ Hector told himself. _Take another step. Eat a bite of meat. Take another step. Look around. Wake up._

He felt like he could see Meri's smile, somewhere in the corner of his eyes. He forced those thoughts out of his head. He couldn't think about her _at all._ That was the rule. All that Hector was sure of anymore was that he wouldn't be surviving if he let himself think about Meri.

But it was _so hard._ So hard! Everything reminded him of Meri! The woods, the wind, the snow—it was all about her! It almost felt unfair. The world shouldn't have been all abot her, like it was starting to seem.

 _Take another step. Look around. Wake up. Look around. Take another step._

He could only follow the smallest of his orders. _Don't think about her_ was an order that was simply too hard to obey. He tried to be alert, to look around the snowy woods and see if something was lying in wait for him. The air was biting at him. It reminded him of District 2—and that was a safe thought. District 2 hadn't been her home. The summery District 4 had.

It had been his home, too.

And Hector wanted to go back.

He staggered, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach. But as he straightened, he felt somehow lighter. Cleaner. Admitting to himself that he wanted to go back, despite it betraying all of his rebellious convictions, despite Meri not being there to greet him, made him feel a little better.

It confirmed what a bad person he was.

But it gave him something to fight for.

If he couldn't fight for her life, for her smile, for her laugh, then he could at least fight for himself.

* * *

"I'm bored," Florence admitted.

"So you keep saying."

"Remind me again why we care about self-preservation?"

Kronos should have yelled at her. _So that you can survive. So that they'll let you go home._ But he concurred with her completely. Kronos didn't _want_ to go home. He didn't want to face anyone from there. He didn't want to be reminded of how pointless life was. He wanted to be allowed to move on from this blasted existence, no matter the method. Florence—well, if she survived, it would be beautiful. She would tear down the world. And if she didn't make it, she would go out in a blaze of glory. Either way, it would be amazing. Kronos knew that much about her. To doubt Florence Channing was to be an idiot.

"Wait."

Kronos stopped at her voice and looked to where she was pointing. There was someone dressed in a Tribute uniform lying on the ground. He glanced at her. A smile was spreading over her face, wide, bloody, dangerous. He couldn't help but smile at it, too.

Quietly, they approached the Tribute, but there was no need for stealth, because the Tribute was clearly trapped. Kronos sped up, falling into the snow beside the Tribute and brushing away the snow that was on his face. It was Landon. His lips were blue, and his face was white and bloodless. Florence dropped to her knees next to him.

Kronos gently pulled one of the knives that Florence had give him down the side of Landon's face. He started, moaning in pain and trying to get away. Florence looked away from his face, and his legs, and saw a huge red stain in the snow.

"What happened to you, honey?" she asked, her voice kind and lovely.

Landon hissed at the sound.

Florence just frowned, as if she cared. "Such a shame. We'll have to amputate, I think."

Landon whispered something. It took a moment for Kronos to realize that it was _please._ Kronos almost laughed. Maybe before this had started, he would have dispatched Landon quickly. But now, he was invested. He wanted to see what would happen.

Florence grinned at him, and it was gorgeous. "You know, I think I'm glad that we took a walk."

"Me too, actually, and I don't make a point of agreeing with you."

Florence carefully sliced through the leg of Landon's pants and then through the layer of skin that was there. Blood gently oozed out. She struck again, slicing at it gently like a doctor, with saw-like motions. She carefully held the two slice of skin apart, trying to see muscle. Landon screamed.

"You know," Florence said, regarding Landon and turning to Kronos, "I've always wondered how much skin a human body really needs. Haven't you?"

* * *

"Do you hear that?" Adalicia asked.

"Hear what?"

"That."

Fiori carefully listened as a sound whistled through the woods.

"It's a _scream_."

"It's the wind," Fiori tried to assure her.

"No. _No!_ It's a scream! Someone is screaming, we have to get away from here!"

"Adalicia—"

Adalicia suddenly threw her arms around Fiori. Confused, Fiori stood like a statue, before awkwardly patting Adalicia's shoulder.

"Thank you," Adalicia muttered. "For everything. I'm grateful that you were here. You're a good person."

And suddenly she shoved Fiori back, with surprising strength. Confused, Fiori stumbled.

"Don't follow me."

Fleet and light, Adalicia sprinted through the woods, her blonde hair flowing like gold behind her. Fiori didn't understand what was happening for a moment, but then understood that Adalicia was _leaving_ —

Fiori had to stop. She had to let Adalicia go. She couldn't get invested in this.

Even as her feet tried to will her to follow and as her eyes and insides burned, she fored herself to stay still.

 _Fuck it, Hart. Don't throw everything away now._

* * *

The wind was picking up, battering against Adalicia as she ran. She leaned forward as much as she could, and she would have fallen if the wind hadn't been there to push her back up. Every step took an eternity, every inch forward took way too much energy. Adalicia screamed in desperation, the call lost in the wind.

 _Dead. They're all dead. And I'm going to die too._

A shape moved in the woods behind her, and Adalicia turned, the wind now buffeting her back, ready to scream at Fiori for ignoring what she had said, but the wind and heavy snow had convoluted her sight and it was someone—

 _Zoe!_

Adalicia screamed again, this time out of pure fear. It was Zoe. Her corpse. Blue-tinted skin, gaping wound ( _I stabbed her there!),_ eyes completely black. The body stumbled forward— _it wants me! It's going to get to me!_ Adalicia's eyes were filling with tears, and she didn't know how to rationalize the panic and the strong feeling that she needed to run, to _survive_ —

But she was frozen where she was as Zoe's corpse moved towards her. "Please," Adalicia desperately gasped, but it didn't stop—

And then a large amount of snow blew across Adalicia's vision—it was falling thick and fast, Adalicia had never seen winter like this before—and it wasn't Zoe standing there, it was Faustia— _has it always been her?_ No, Adalicia was so sure that Zoe's body had been there, ready to throttle Adalicia to death! But it was Faustia, and she drew her sword, her eyes hard and ready—

She moved fast, too fast than was necessary for the snow, and Adalicia turned and ran.

Faustia followed, close behind. She could tell that Adalicia didn't have any training in the snow, and unfortunately for Adalicia, Faustia did. She moved diagonally into the howling wind. Somehow, the snow was falling heavier, and it was almost as if entire snowbanks were falling from the sky. Much more like this, and things wouldn't be visible at all.

But Faustia could still see Adalicia in front of her, a small, dark shape. She followed the shape. She needed to catch up. She just needed to end this as soon as possible. She was growing weary, so weary.

Through the wind, Faustia thought that she heard a cannon fire.

She ignored it. _Five to go._ She pushed forward, with the feeling that she was catching up to her quarry. The wind was making strange noises, like sobs or screams perhaps, howling and screeching through the trees.

And then, dark figures began to line the path.

Faustia initially panicked, but she was ready to fight off the other five Tributes—but suddenly there were more than five, many more, too many, some of them far too bulky or too small to be any of the people left, and Faustia didn't understand—she careened through the snow, trying to catch up with Adalicia and _end this_ and she stumbled too close to one of them and caught a glimpse of Jeanna's face, the girl from 8 who had died on the first day—and then she understood all too well.

 _No. Get it together! It's just a game! A test! They're not going to kill anyone with these, not now, they're just trying to break us and I! Will! Not! Break!_

She moved forward again, through the aisle of figures. They were dead, and the knowledge made her sick, but she couldn't focus on that.

And suddenly, two other figures broke loose of the rows of the dead. The snow suddenly got clearer for an instant and Faustia spotted the pair from 9.

 _No._ They weren't going to steal Faustia's kill. And Faustia was not going to allow them to torture a little girl. Faustia was just going to end it, end all of this, quickly and without too much fuss. She sped up.

Kronos felt a certain amount of elation that came with making a kill that beautiful, and the idea of doing it again was tempting, too tempting.

Adalicia tried to run faster, to get away from her pursuer. _So much death..._ her heart beat so fast that she thought it would beat out of her chest or stop completely.

Hands reddened with blood that had frozen there, Florence laughed wildly as she chased Adalicia through the storm.

* * *

 **D1: Adalicia Coro** **na (13)  
** **D2: Faustia Graston (18)**  
 **D4: Hector Hardy (18)**  
 **D9: Kronos Malakai (16); Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Florence, Kronos

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Landon:** Landon was a pretty average Tribute. He was much stronger than most from District 5, but much less striking than the rest of the Careers. He had a pretty good solo career simply because that was what he was used to. If he had managed to avoid other Tributes for longer, or gone the sneak-attack route, he could have easily won, because he was pretty competent. Sadly, he got caught, and died a horrible death that no one deserves. In the original stages of planning, Landon was slated as the winner, but obviously, that has changed, and I'm sorry that you've fallen so far. RIP, Landon.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **You thought that the skin-holding moment was going to be the grossest. You were wrong. Well, like thirty chapters of buildup with Kronos and Florence is finally being fulfilled. I'm shocked. (It's way too hard to express sarcasm over the internet, isn't it?)**

 **QotW: How sarcastic of a person are you?**


	44. Diamonds and Rubies

**[TW: VIOLENCE AND TORTURE. BE WARY WHILE READING.]**

 **Day 7:**

It took maybe ten minutes for Fiori's resolve to break.

Adalicia's footsteps had already been covered up by snow, but Fiori followed them anyway. She knew that she should have been staying as far away from any Tributes as possible. But say that she could hide in the trees, and use Adalicia as bait. That would work, right? That was a good strategy.

Fiori had to muster the element of surprise. She would follow Adalicia, and when someone tried to kill Adalicia, she would kill them when they weren't on guard. Maybe it was underhanded. _But who cares? I just need to survive another day._

She moved through the woods, not caring about the noise that she was making. No one could hear her over the roar of the wind and scream of the snow. This was truly a blizzard, the kind that shut down production for a week. Fiori kept her arms in front of her, trying not to blindly stumble into a tree or someone else's sword.

At this point, it wasn't even whether Fiori could manage to kill someone. It was about not wandering off a cliff in this damn storm.

* * *

The blizzard was clearly a sign that Hector needed to get moving. He started pushing through the storm. He didn't have any destination in mind, but he needed to get his blood pumping. He wasn't going to die through freezing to death. Meri would never forgive him.

But as he struggled, he came to a complete impasse. The snow wasn't just falling intensely, it was simply a white wall. Hector pushed into it, but it was impossible to get through. Hector realized that the Gamemakers didn't want him to go in that direction.

 _Fuck you!_ He thought, pushing harder. He put his hands out, pressing on the snow—it was really a wall, impossible to get through, and feelings of extreme claustrophobia came over him as he realized that the Arena might literally be shrinking.

 _It's not going to crush me. I'm not going to disappear._ Hector forced himself to get back in control, and turning the other way. The snow scoured across his face like little icy knives, and as he wiped his face in an attempt to make his eyes more clear, his white gloves came away with some red stripes on them.

 _Winter. Fuck winter._ Hector decided on the spot that he preferred District 4 to any other District due to District 4's excellent weather. _Why isn't our industry tourism? And why can't I just focus?!_

* * *

Kronos grabbed Florence's hand and dragged her forward against the snow as they followed the figure in front of them. The blood on his hands and face was freezing there. Maybe it looked like his own. He thought that he saw Florence's mouth move out of the corner of his mouth, but he couldn't tell over the enraged howls of the storm. The sounds of laughter, too, could have been created by the wind or by Florence herself.

It was a chaotic day, white and blinding and terrifying and Kronos thought that he could sense his own death rapidly impeding. _Six to go_ — _of course I'm going to die soon._

He honestly didn't care anymore.

Well, he had convinced himself that he didn't care earlier in the Games. But today, he honestly didn't care if he lived or died, if he ceased to exist or went to whatever hellish afterlife was surely awaiting all of the murderers like him. This day had been glorious. And on this day, Kronos felt like a god himself. He knew what it was to take a life, to destroy a spirit.

He wanted to do it again.

* * *

Adalicia couldn't see anything.

It was as if she was in her own personal cyclone, a howling tornado of white that was circling her, defending her, cutting her away from the rest of the world. Could Vasyklo see her right now? Were the Capitol's cameras good enough for that? Or were all Capitolians horribly disappointed with the way this day was shaping up?

Adalicia's fears of a knife flying out of nowhere and landing in her back were suddenly quelled. A knife couldn't reach her through his maelstrom. It just wasn't possible. If this storm was Adalicia's alone, then maybe she was lucky. The others would destroy themselves before getting to her.

Anyway, they'd all die. They were all going to die in the end.

* * *

Florence could taste victory on her tongue the same way that she could taste the utter triumph of the previous few hours and the blood that had run down their knives. Forget anything she had done before. Landon's death had been the most euphoric thing she had ever experienced. She loved driving people insane, getting them to contribute to their own deaths, but she had done that through her careful subtlety and talent. There had been nothing subtle about Landon's death. They had simply hurt him until he had broken completely.

 _Insanity isn't just something of the mind. You can cause it as an extension of the body._ Florence was so excited to have that knowledge! Forget mind over matter. The two things were equal and connected and to destroy one was to destroy the other.

Victory. Destruction. They tasted the same and Florence could taste them both.

But she had to be careful. She had to survive the next day. She couldn't bounce back from any stupidity, not now. _Careful. Careful._

* * *

This infernal storm!

Faustia didn't know what the Gamemakers were thinking. Why were they stopping the Tributes from fighting? Why were they blocking out all of the camera feed with snow? Was this an attempt to drive everyone crazy? To exhaust them? What was the point of it?

 _We can't understand what the Capitol does,_ Faustia reminded herself. It was a lesson they had been taught every day. _We just can't understand, because they're smarter than us,_ better _than us._

Why did it have to be _now_ that all of Faustia's training came off as fake and weak and pointless? How was Faustia supposed to fight for the Capitol when it was becoming hard to make herself believe that anything they did had any justification? When was this death going to end?

* * *

In an instant, the wind stopped, and the remaining snow dropped to the ground, leaving the woods and lake bright white and easy to see across. The trees seemed more sparse, the forest seemed smaller. And the air was very, very quiet.

 _Did it drive me deaf?_ Fiori wondered as she made her way forward, breaking through the snow and leaving a visible wake. She could see two figures—four figures—ahead of her. Four figures—almost everyone. Where was the fifth? _Okay, Fiori. Wait. Just wait._

Faustia and Adalicia were in front of them, Kronos could see that much, and he kept holding Florence's hand as they bent over, close to the snow, and began making their way towards Faustia. They were at the edge of the woods. There was no place left to hide.

It was Adalicia up ahead of her, but Faustia stopped in her tracks. Not because she couldn't stomach killing Adalicia, or anything, but because the wind had scoured away all of the snow in front of her, and in front of her was the lake next to the Cornucopia plain, and standing in the middle of the lake was Adalicia. Faustia looked around, trying to find any of the bodies, but they had gone.

As the snow dropped away, Hector realized that he was standing in between two long lines of people. For a moment he didn't understand what was happening, but then he saw Meri's face—but it was bloated, blue—her _corpse_ — _Meri, Meri, I'm sorry_ —he kept his screams inside as he covered his eyes with his hands and sprinted forward, trying to escape this forsaken place.

Florence prepared herself to pounce, ready to add another kill to her list. She wanted to feel blood dripping, to hear the sound of screams. Dragging in this freezing air was invigorating, and screaming into the winter air could burn your lungs. She breathed in deeply.

Adalicia stopped in her tracks, skidding to a halt. The wind had scoured the snow away from the area in front of her. And she could see clearly now that she was standing on ice.

 _Ice._ It was like back in District 1 last winter, the kind of ice that her mother had led those children onto. Adalicia turned, needing to get away from her, but there were people waiting back her on shore! And then she slipped and slammed into the freezing ice.

She heard a noise like a groan, the pained moan of a giant. And then a huge cracking noise.

Adalicia screamed.

Faustia heard the huge cracking noise and then watched as Adalicia suddenly fell and disappeared. Water splashed across the ice of the entire lake, even getting as far as Faustia's feet. Faustia let out a gasp, unable to hide her horror. Adalicia had simply...disappeared. That death—anticlimatic, untortured. It was uncharacteristic for these Games.

And then something hit her in the back of the head.

Faustia stumbled forward, cursing herself and her stupidity. _You don't stop paying attention! You don't drop your guard!_ She turned and drew her sword, stabbing at her assailant, but Kronos caught the blade in his scythe and pushed it to the side. Faustia stabbed again and quickly withdrew before Kronos could block her, and then feinted forward. He fell for it, and Faustia sliced upwards, her blade landing deep in his arm. He yelled as she pulled her blade out, blood showering down. Faustia struck again, her blow catching Kronos in the shoulder, but then her body exploded in pain. She collapsed to her knees and felt the sickening sense of a blade being slid out of her.

"That shouldn't be fatal," Faustia heard. She fell backwards as Florence stepped around her, standing beside Kronos. "Don't worry. I want your life to last a little while longer. Can you do that for me, honey?"

Faustia groaned in pain, trying to move her arms, but every movement said horrible, sickening agony shooting through her, and then Florence kicked her in the chest. Faustia fell onto her back.

A cannon fired as water sloshed against the shore of the lack, freezing as it hit, and Faustia desperately hoped that it was someone else's cannon, _don't let Adalicia have spent so long drowning..._ but no. She had to focus on her own problems.

Florence leaned over, and Faustia slashed upwards with her sword. Florence jumped back, but the blade cut across her cheek. Florence reached up to touch the cut, as if disbelieving. She wiped some of the blood off, put a knee on Faustia's sword hand and then leant down on the knee, and gently touched Faustia's face.

Something about Florence's blood being on her made Faustia feel dirty. Faustia spat at Florence, trying to make her lose her cool, but Florence only smiled. "This is going to be more fun than Landon," she singsonged.

Faustia heard Kronos's voice. "Yeah. He was mostly dead anyway. Catatonic, I think."

"A shame. But you're very, very alive, Faustia Graston. And in a few minutes, you're going to be regretting that fact."

Part of Faustia was telling her to beg for a quick death. But the rest of her knew that every minute she was live was a minute that she could be fighting off her enemies, and anyway, a District 2 citizen never asked for death. They had more honor than that. Faustia closed her eyes, just trying to think up a plan.

She felt her sword being wrenched out of her hands and felt naked and useless without it. She hadn't been able to stop them from taking it, she hadn't been strong enough. And then she felt someone take her hand. A small hand. Florence's.

"It's going to be okay," Florence whispered to her. Florence's voice was disgusting, all comforting and friendly. "I just need to make sure that you can't fight us."

* * *

Fiori had climbed a tree at the edge of the woods, trying to spot what had happened to Adalicia. She felt too empty inside at the knowledge that Adalicia was dead. _Idiot. You got attached._ It was strange, knowing that the little girl was gone forever. That she was forever going to be thirteen. Fiori had lived for four years longer than Adalicia ever would. Fiori would always have those four years, but Adalicia never would.

She felt like sobbing. But she wouldn't let herself.

It was then that she had spotted Florence, Kronos, and Faustia. They were utterly focused on each other, and Fiori knew that it was just a matter of biding her time until she could kill them. Forget her qualms, forget the guilt, Fiori had the perfect opportunity to kill them and _you're going to take it, Fiori Hart, don't make me say it one more time, you're so close right now and you're not gonna throw it away._ Then it would just be Hector. The Final 2 was in sight.

 _I never thought I'd make it._

Florence was kneeling by Faustia's side. Confused, Fiori watched as Florence took Faustia's hand. But Florence also had a knife, and suddenly, she brought the knife down through Faustia's hand, into the ground.

Maybe it was imagination, but Fiori thought that she could hear something crunch, and she heard an agonized scream from Faustia, and then she was retching up her insides and trying to stop her sobs from coming out. She forced herself to look back at the three Tributes. _Focus!_ Faustia was writhing, her hand stabbed through.

 _Will they do that to me if they catch me?_

Fiori needed to kill them. Now.

 _No. It's awful, but I need to wait for them to be more focused on her. Then I can_ —

Oh.

They were focused.

Faustia screamed again, but now Kronos was bent over as well and Fiori couldn't see anything—and someone was _laughing_ —anger roared within her. This wasn't people engaging in the Gamemaker's little games. This wasn't someone following the rules.

This was someone being a monster of their _own fucking volition._ Fiori saw red.

She dropped out of the tree and fell to the ground, army crawling to where they were. She knew she was being stupid and putting herself in danger, but she had the anger necessary to murder everyone here, everyone in the _whole fucking world,_ and she didn't care who saw her.

She stabbed her knife into the back of Kronos's throat and dragged it sideways. It cut, through flesh and sinew, a horrible smell rising, the blood strangely bright against the snow. Fiori rose, feeling undefeatable, and stepped towards Florence.

(Faustia heard a cannon fire and felt something collapse onto her legs, but it didn't matter, she was in _so much pain_ —)

But Florence stood up and backed up quickly. She looked at Kronos, and Fiori was surprised and disgusted to see actual worry and grief in her eyes. She did _not_ want to know what Florence and Kronos had been doing together, those fucking monsters. But Florence then let out a laugh, rough and terrifying and low.

"You're not going to win," she said. It sounded like a promise.

Fiori didn't listen, sprinting forward with the knife aloft, the prospect of someone—a specific someone—in the heart suddenly very attractive.

But something slammed into Fiori's face. It momentarily blinded her, and she felt the wetness of blood flowing down her forehead. Florence had darted behind her in the moment of weakness and grabbed Kronos's scythe.

Fiori didn't care.

She charged Florence again, ducking under the scythe and stabbing Florence in the thigh. She yanked the knife out, using Florence as a fulcrum for her own momentum and swinging out of the way of the scythe's blade. Florence laughed, giggling really, as the knife struck her.

( _Don't die, don't die,_ Faustia told herself, _c'mon, you're not dead yet_ —but it hurt, _so badly_ —)

Florence spun and faced Fiori with the scythe aloft, but maybe she could see something in Fiori's eyes, because she sprinted away. Blood left a trail after her, dripping from her leg, but she was still scarily fleet and fast and Fiori couldn't keep up. And then Fiori heard another scream from behind her and couldn't help but retch again, her throat burning as the memories came to the front of her mind, uncalled. She turned to where Faustia was, and knew that she was going to have to kill Faustia as well. It was another Paris thing. It was kinder to end it now.

Faustia didn't plan on that.

 _Stop. It. Stop wallowing, Faustia Grason, you've come to far to stop now!_ Faustia moaned in pain as she flexed the muscles in her legs, her core, and her unstabbed arm, just trying to get her senses back to herself. _You're in control, Faustia. Don't let her win. Don't let Florence win._

Faustia rolled onto her side a little bit, letting out a small yelp at the unbearable pain in her hand. Her back was throbbing, too, and she had a bad feeling about that, but it was eclipsed by her hand. She saw something silvery winking in the sky and glared forward. _C'mon. C'mon._

She wrapped her good hand around the knife and yanked. She screamed as the knife left her hand, giving up on any semblance of control and sobbing. She clutched her hand close to herself, unclenched, and rocked back and forth as she sobbed. The very idea of looking at her her hand was terrifying, unbearable.

The parachute came to a halt next to her and Faustia grabbed it with her good hand. There was what seemed to be a black glove. It was heavy, binding. Faustia quickly slipped it on to her injured hand, biting her tongue until she tasted blood, and then fell backwards into the snow, exhausted. Her mentor had sent her something for her hand. That was all she could ask for.

She noticed Fiori standing a few feet away and reached for her sword before realizing that she wasn't sure where it is. She thought of grabbing the knife that she had been stabbed with and was hit with a wave of revulsion. She pushed herself to her feet and stared at Fiori, who moved no closer. She couldn't fight Fiori until she was stronger. Faustia hated using trickery to win games, but she had no choice.

Fiori gave a short, desperate laugh. "What do they _feed_ you in District Two?"

Faustia shrugged. "I propose a deal."

"Okay," Fiori said, looking afraid as she appraised Faustia. Faustia knew that her value in the Capitol must have been driven up by what she had just done.

"We kill Florence first. She _can't_ win."

Fiori slowly nodded. _You're a Career,_ she thought, wanting to kill Faustia where she stood, but unable to. As bad as Faustia was, Florence was so much worse. Besides, Fiori couldn't deny that what Faustia had just done was impressive. "I agree. We kill her, and then each other." Hopefully Hector would be dead by then, and Faustia would still be weak. Fiori didn't want an ally, and she knew that teaming up with someone to take down Hector, a decent man, made her a bad person. But she couldn't care less at this point.

Faustia just had to wait until she was strong enough to kill Fiori and Hector. She just had to wait for that.

Her entire body shook as she imagined what was to come. For the first time, she wished she hadn't volunteered.

But she couldn't think about that now. She reached over her shoulder and brushed her fingertips over her back. She could feel a cut, but it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. Her skin felt numb, and Faustia worried that the knife had been poisoned, that she was slowly dying.

She just needed to kill the others first.

* * *

 **D2: Faustia Graston (18)  
** **D4: Hector Hardy (18)**  
 **D9: Florence Channing (17)**  
 **D10: Fiori Hart (17)**

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Adalicia:** Our youngest Tribute! I had a huge soft spot for her, and I think that every reader did as well. She had incredible mental fortitude and intelligence, despite her youth, and it took her far. She also had many allies, and while they all died, it speaks to the fact that despite her hard exterior, she was a friendly person, and one that people cared for. She was really an innocent person, but despite the horrors that she saw, she kept her head on her shoulders and kept plowing through any challenges she was faced with. I would have loved to have her win, but that sadly wasn't realistic. RIP, Adalicia. I'm really sorry.

 **Kronos:** Kronos was kind of the nothing Tribute. He had a defined character, but that character was very stoic and quiet, at least until he became obsessed with the Cult of Florence and went totally crazy. For the most part he was kind of just _there,_ and while he was crazy, that craziness was overshadowed by how crazy Florence was. He managed to sneak farther and farther into the Games, which is a talent in itself. He was actually very strong too, and could have easily won, but his time was cut short. RIP, Kronos. Or go to hell. One of the two.

* * *

 **Alliances:**

Faustia, Fiori

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **There will probably be one more Games chapter and then some post-Games stuff. We're coming up on the end. I hope everyone enjoyed.**

 **QotW:**

 **If you were in the Games, do you think you'd go crazy?**


	45. A Knife in the Wind

**Day 7:**

Burning. Faustia's hand was burning. Someone had set it on fire and was poking at it, trying to make it more intense. Her fingers were burning, too, and the flames were travelling through her blood, up her arm and through her body. She whimpered slightly, her insides contorting.

Fiori noticed the tears burning down Faustia's face, but she didn't say anything. Faustia didn't want her comfort. She wouldn't want anyone to notice how much pain she was in. And Fiori didn't want to comfort her. This was only a thing until Florence was dead.

 _She signed up for this,_ Fiori reminded herself. Faustia had volunteered to be a part of this shitshow. It was her own fault that she had ended up with an arm that it obviously pained her to move. _I don't feel bad for her._

She did feel bad for Adalicia. But she couldn't afford to focus on that right now. She would grieve Adalicia later.

Nikki's face jumped into her mind, smiling hopefully. Nikki must have been freaking out, knowing that Fiori was almost home. Fiori could imagine her mother's face, too, hardly daring to believe that Fiori might live through this. _Don't think about them. Not now. They make you weak._

Despite the fiery feelings around her body, Faustia was shivering. She felt feverish, except with the fever came feelings of agony. But it was hard to deny that the day was cold. It was clear, cloudless, with a perfect steel blue sky. The snow was crunching under their feet, ice lining the trees.

 _I want this to be over,_ Faustia realized. _I wish that I was back home. I wish that...that I had never…_

 _No._ Faustia was glad for the chance to serve the Capitol. She could never regret this opportunity. And the glove she had been sent as a sponsor gift was a clear sign that the Capitol was supporting her. The glove was shaping her hand, and Faustia thought that it was releasing something onto her skin that was making the pain more bearable. She could feel some numbness starting on her palm.

Not knowing about the pain could be dangerous. She could seriously damage her hand if she wasn't aware of her limits.

One the other hand ( _oh Capitol, a pun),_ having limits at all was incredibly dangerous in the endgame. She couldn't have anything dragging her down. If she lost a hand, or an arm, so be it. She just had to keep her life.

* * *

Hector heard the sound of scrambling footsteps from somewhere far away. He listened, trying to locate where the sound was coming from. He backed up, getting behind a tree with a huge trunk, preparing to rotate so as to be better hidden from whoever was approaching.

His efforts paid off, as he saw Florence approaching. She was bleeding from the leg, and she had a wide grin on her face. She looked so innocent, like a teenager coming back home after having a first kiss.

Capitol, she was a psychopath. And if Hector trusted her in any way, he was surely crazy as well.

He drew his spear, aiming it at her heart, and drew back. His muscles were taut. But for a moment, he suddenly lost all will to throw. Had Meri died like this, with an enemy catching her off guard? Had she ever seen the person that had killed her? Or what if _Florence_ had been the one to kill her, with honeyed smiles and murderous strokes? Hector shuddered at the thought.

Florence shifted suddenly, and her smile got wider. Hector knew that she had seen him, and stepped from behind the tree to get a better aim. He felt sick. Was he this person, who was killing people that were defenseless?

But so much of him just wanted to get home. He was tired. He wanted this to be done. He wanted to be able to sleep without being afraid of someone killing him. He wanted to see the crashing waves and hear the gulls not just one more time, but so much more, for the rest of his life!  
He pulled back and threw the spear at Florence.

She twisted, diving out of the way, and Hector cursed himself as her an forward to take the spear from where it had lodged itself in a tree. But Florence turned and sprinted towards it as well, and she had a good distance on him. She grabbed the spear first and turned, wildly jabbing at him, and Hector quickly backed up, trying to keep his balance in the snow. She stabbed forward, and he stepped to the side, raising his foot and kicking her in the leg, where the blood was dripping down.

Florence felt pain shoot up her leg like poison spreading through a wound, and she couldn't help but yelp, and then felt the wood of the spear roll out of her hands. Feeling suddenly naked, she stumbled backward. _Knife! Scythe!_ But there was nothing, nothing to count on. Florence reached for a stick or something and came across only snow. She threw it at Hector, who batted it to the side.

Immediately, Hector focused on the spear and practically jumped on it. He snapped it up and flipped it around, driving it forward. He felt something give way as the metal cut through flesh. He heard Florence groan, and then scream, as the spear hit her. Hector withdrew, blood spraying.

 _No...no!_ Florence couldn't believe that this was happening! It wasn't supposed to end like this! She was supposed to kill _them,_ not the other way around! Pain like fire was racing through her, reminding her of cold winter days, and she desperately tried to choke out a word, though she herself didn't know what she was trying to say.

It hurt so badly.

The winter day suddenly flashed to summer, and a lake flickered at the edges of Florence's vision. She saw Draven.

Hector brought the spear forward again, this time directly through Florence's heart. The cannon fired immediately. _It's over,_ Hector told himself. _It's over, she's gone, and I ended it quickly._ That was all that he could hope for, right? After all, trying to be a good person was simply too much to ask for when it came to the Arena. Hector had to cut his losses somewhere.

Something silver dropped out of Florence's pocket as she collapsed to the ground. Hector backed away from it. He didn't want any part of this. Maybe he should have closed her eyes, or something, but he was too disgusted with himself to touch the body. Florence looked young in death.

The space between the trees around him was filled with snow, crushed and dirtied by Hector and Florence's fight. Hector backed away, treading new snow. He didn't want to look at what he had just done. But he couldn't tear his eyes away.

* * *

They both heard the cannon fire.

 _Two left,_ Fiori thought, her heart racing. _Two more._ She might actually be able to do this. Home rose to the front of her thoughts. She could almost taste it on the edge of her tongue, hear Nikki and her mother's cries and the squawks of the chickens that wouldn't even know she was gone. She was so close. She had never thought that she would get this close. _And if I'm this close, then I'm beating them. If I got this far, I'm beating the Gamemakers._

 _Two left,_ Faustia thought, her mind racing. There was definitely some sort of numbing agent in the glove. Faustia couldn't imagine how much it had cost. But it would allow her to focus on the upcoming fight. If Florence had just died, then Faustia would be standing close to a mortal enemy. She had to be ready to have the upper hand. A few quick strokes, and it could be over.

 _No._ Faustia couldn't do that, though. She couldn't sink a knife into Fiori's back or throat and pretend it was all fine. Faustia had some modicum of honor, after all, and foolish as it might have been, it was all that separated her from District savages. It was what made her better than the others, a more worthy Victor. And if Florence was the one that was still alive—that would have made Hector dead—then Faustia was left with a psychopath and a possible rebel on her hands. And neither could be allowed to win.

She felt strangely sick, in a way that wasn't related to the horrible pain that still lingered in her arm. She couldn't put her finger on it.

* * *

 **Games Control Center**

A merciful hush had fallen over the crowd of assembled Gamemakers, but a frantic air was still completely tangible. Fingers were tapping, nails were gnawed on, deep breaths were taken in. Sagittarius Black licked his lips as he watched the huge display in front of him. _Endgame._ There was nothing left to do except for shrink the Arena and drive the remaining three together.

"Do we give District Two an advantage, sir?" Raina asked.

"No," someone else said, "no advantages, we need this to be fair—"

" _Fair,_ " someone mocked, "it's not _supposed_ to be fair—"

"Silence!" Sagittarius shouted.

The room went silent once more as Sagittarius pressed the button that would drive the three Tributes together.

* * *

 **District 2**

Livia Graston could feel her sister's victory. It was the only outcome that made any sense. Her sister was the perfect Tribute, the person that the Capitol would certainly want as the Victor. She would serve them well, she would always be loyal. The other two couldn't be trusted. Sweat dripped down Livia's forehead as she silently begged the Gamemakers to recognize that fact.

Her hands, curled into fists, were tight and bloodless, her nails were digging into the flesh of her palms—which of course reminded her of her sister. _You show them,_ she told Faustia. _You're strong, you dealt with this in training_ — _you can_ win. _Please, come back. Live!_

Something wet trickled through her hand—blood. Livia couldn't make herself release her fists. She was too panicked about her little sister.

* * *

 **District 4**

Hermes Johnson couldn't bring himself to look away from the TV, where three images were broadcasted of each of the remaining Tributes. Hector, his best friend, his partner in crime and rebellion, had just killed another person. He had betrayed everything that he and Hermes had been fighting for for years. Hermes almost couldn't blame him for this one. Florence Channing had been every kind of messed up. Still, if Hector came back, he would be different. He would no longer be the friend that Hermes had watched leave.

 _You can do this._ Hermes knew that.

The question was, would that be for the best? Did Hermes want Hector to come home when the Hector who had been his friend was, for all purposes, dead? And would Hector be able to live with himself after all of this?

* * *

 **District 10**

Erika Hart was having the circulation in her hands cut off by her youngest daughter Nikki, but she didn't care, as she was gripping Nikki's hands just as tightly. They had each thrown up at least five times in the last three hours, ducking away from the TV to retch and then stumbling back to watch as Fiori made her way through the final hours of the Games.

 _You've done so well,_ Erika thought, despair rising. _But can you do more? Can you come back?_ Her instincts told her that Fiori was strong enough for it, and she knew that the odds were, for once, not completely against her daughter. _You defied the odds. You're ready to fight. And if care can bring someone back, then you're set in that regard._

But could Fiori do it? Did she really have what it took to win? Every mother thought so, right? But in the end, was Erika setting herself up for the worst kind of grief?

* * *

Fiori and Faustia followed the trail of blood through the snow. They left the clearing and went into the woods. The drops of blood got longer and farther apart, and the snow around all of them had been melted. The reminder that blood was warm was somehow sickening to Fiori.

Faustia watched the blood and remembered how easily it could have been hers. _Don't get cocky,_ she reminded herself. There was always a way to fall. And it was very possible that she would. She kept looking over her shoulder, afraid that Florence was there, ready to pounce. Her shoulder ached.

Fiori just couldn't chase away the thoughts of home. She could almost smell the clean, open air, hear the birds that cawed at dusk, see her mother and sister. She knew it was dangerous. But why not remind herself of what she was fighting for? She forged ahead, not even afraid of Florence anymore. If Fiori saw her, she would kill her. Simple as that. She could feel adrenaline, raw power, flowing through her veins. _I'm ready to end this. And everyone_ should _be scared._

Up ahead, Fiori thought that she could spot someone lying on the ground. She sped up, leaving a limping Faustia behind.

It was Florence. A simple wound through the heart. _Bam, bam, bam,_ went Fiori's heart, almost painful and slamming through her chest and into her throat. Fiori spun around, yanking out her knife and holding it out.

"Whoa," Faustia said, giving a laugh that sounded forced. "That Florence?"

Fiori gave a jolting nod, throwing herself forward at Faustia.

Faustia brought up her sword to block Fiori's knife, unable to keep in a scream as the blow reverberated down her arm. _Oh Capitol, oh Capitol..._ it hurt. So badly! But Faustia glared at Fiori. She was _not_ going to be taken down by some District 10 rebel scum.

Faustia stabbed at Fiori's stomach, and Fiori stepped back, snow crunching under her feet. Faustia didn't let herself focus on Florence's body, still in the snow a few feet away. She swung at Fiori's shoulder, and Fiori ducked the blow.

 _Patience,_ Faustia told herself, trying to find her center. _Focus. You won't get anywhere through blind anger._ She let Fiori go on the offensive for a few moments.

Fiori swung forward with the knife. She didn't have very much range, but she had blinding force in each stroke, and Faustia was forced to take steps back. The hand that had been stabbed was too strong— _what do Careers feed their kids?!_ —but it was still a weak point for Faustia, and Fiori drove a few blows towards that hand. She feinted up and then flicked the knife upside down, coming in from the bottom and catching Faustia in the wrist. Faustia yelled. Fiori stabbed again, trying to move fast and get under Faustia's guard. She felt powerful, like lightning. _That's for all of the dead District Ten Tributes that your people killed! That's for supporting the Capitol! That's for training for these games, and_ that's _for volunteering for them! That's for being a murderer!_ Red was tinting Fiori's vision. Faustia could barely keep up with her blows, moving sluggishly now. Fiori could see the end.

But so could Faustia.

She deflected another one of Fiori's stabs, metal ringing on metal. Fiori was good. But not as good as Faustia. Faustia was pretty sure that Fiori was putting her all into each one of these strokes, but Faustia was still able to deflect them without too much trouble. All of Fiori's anger couldn't match Faustia's training.

She slackened her grip on the sword, letting Fiori's knife land on the pommel of the sword, where it stuck. Faustia pulled back, ripping Fiori's knife out of her hand. (Something was definitely in that glove, Faustia could barely feel her hand anymore.) Because despite all of Fiori's raw talent, it was raw. And it was angry. Not sustainable like Faustia's skill.

Faustia got as strong of a foothold as she could in the snow and swung sideways, all of her strength behind the sword. It slammed into Fiori's side and cut through like a knife through butter— _bloodandbone, boneandblood,_ and the reds within Fiori were almost purple and Faustia had to stumble back, looking at the sky as she desperately tried to escape what she had just done, holding in bile and tears.

A cannon fired somewhere in the distance, and Faustia unsteadily turned. The air was metallic all of a sudden.

She was swaying back and forth slightly. She felt as though she should have been screaming or laughing, one of the two. But no, her face was calm and neutral. Her trainers would have been proud. She stared at the woods, waiting for the colors to shift, and spoke.

"I see you, Hector."

The jig was up, not that Hector had expected it to last very long. He had gotten his reprieve as Faustia killed Fiori—nausea was rising in him, quickly becoming his most prominent feature—and now it was Hector's time to fight. He was so close. And yet, so far. How did he have a prayer of beating Faustia?

The look in her eyes was slightly mournful, and Hector knew that he himself was thinking of what could have been. If he had agreed to join the Careers, how would this have been different? Would he have been killed by now? Or would Faustia be the one that hadn't lived to see the final two? (Would Meri still be alive?) Hector's thoughts suddenly flashed to a world where he and Meri had escaped to the final two. Would that have been better? Or worse?

Faustia's stance was strong. She was firmly anchored in the snow, her legs shoulder-width apart, her sword arm up and steady, her other arm held a bit away from her stomach, ready to defend if worst came to worst. She looked utterly trained, like an indomitable hero from one of the stories Hector's mother had once told him. She was taller than him, stronger, more confident. Hector lifted his spear, the weapon suddenly feeling very flimsy.

Hector struck first.

Faustia sidestepped his blow, swinging her sword at his spear. He withdrew quickly, stabbing again, and Faustia felt the spearhead clank on the blade of her sword. She pushed back, and he stumbled slightly. (Her hand was numb.) He bit his lip as he stabbed forward again, this time at her throat. She thought that she could feel the sharpened metal graze at her exposed flesh as she brought the sword up, a shining mirror flashing across her vision, and blocked the spear.

She went on the offensive, swinging at Hector's side, Fiori's blood still gleaming on the sword. Hector caught the blow between the shaft and head of the spear and brought his leg up, kicking the blade. Faustia didn't let the force get to her, getting thes word and herself into control. Hector was talented. But not talented enough.

She stabbed forward, at his stomach, and he was forced to take a step back. (A spear was a bad weapon for offense and defense in the Games—surely he knew that—and Faustia's hand might as well have not existed. Luckily, it was her non-dominant one.)

Beginning to panic now, Hector understood his father's words about spears. _District Four weapons aren't helpful in the Games. Call on the Two in you, boy._ Bitterness rose in Hector as blood roared through his ears. His father had never been helpful. _Are you proud of me now?_ Hector knew the answer was know.

He studied his surroundings. Bodies. Snow. Always snow. He dove forward, throwing the spear ahead of him and somersaulting to his feet, grabbing the spear and stabbing at Faustia's back. She turned quickly and slammed her sword into his spear. The blade bit deep into the wood, cutting halfway through it. She drew back again, and Hector choked up his grip. _You don't hurt my spear._

Faustia swung again, and Hector jumped back. Faustia advanced, each blow getting closer to Hector. One of them sliced through his shirt, and Faustia saw red bloom on his stomach. _Just let this end, Hector Hardy!_ Faustia kept her blows measured. Hector was panicking, reaching for a new strategy. He gave small pathetic swipes her way, but nothing that could take her down.

Finally, he stumbled.

He fell backwards into the snow, in the trampled ground where Fiori and Faustia had been fighting. He stabbed upwards at her, but Faustia jumped backwards, sinking through the snow and taking a step forward. Hector was desperately feeling the ground around him, reaching for a few weapon, and Faustia brought her sword down.

But in that instant, Hector's hand closed around something. It was cold and wooden— _knife!_ The knife Fiori had been fighting with! Hector yelled as he rolled forward onto the balls of his feet, rising and pushing the knife upwards into Faustia's stomach. She screamed in pain, but her sword still fell, scoring Hector's back with a blow. Hector push her forward, feeling the sword on his back twist and call new blood to the surface before finally sliding off his back and into the snow. Hector fell forward to, onto Faustia, and brought the knife down again.

But he couldn't go on. He had to roll off of Faustia's still-moving body, blood was flowing fast from his back—

 _No._ That couldn't—that couldn't just be it. There was—there was more, wasn't there—Hector fell backwards, and found he was unable to move. The air smelled like blood, like the canneries and fishing ships did at quitting time every day. The sky was as blue as the sea was and Hector was surrounded by death and he was _completely alone_ —there was another dying girl, or maybe he and Faustia were dead and Fiori and Florence were the fighters—

Faustia felt like closing her eyes.

 _Don't do that._

Her hand was numb, surely it would never work again. The rest of her was just a swirling maelstrom of pain. A blizzard of pain, of fire, if that made any sense. She wanted to close her eyes and let herself sleep because that would hurt less. She tried to call on anything she had left, to just kill Hector and end it all, but she couldn't move.

 _No. No! Not like this! I need to move, to kill him_ — _don't let it end like this!_

And so it was that the last two Tributes lay there, like two more of the bodies and ghosts that filled the wintry Arena.

And so it was that finally, the last cannon fired.

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Florence:** Florence was the first truly psychopathic Tribute that was submitted, and I never fully did her justice. She was a crazy, emotionally manipulative, sadistic person who brought a new level of spice to the Games. She was also able to kill through careful manipulation and betrayal, which was a good strategy for her. She had the strength to win. Thankfully, she didn't. Florence, you're horrifying. Just...wow.

 **Fiori:** A lot of people thought that Fiori could win because she had so much anger and determination. Against less trained Tributes, she could have come out on top. Sadly, against someone like Faustia, she didn't have a chance. Fiori had everything to fight for—a family, her ideals—but in the end it just wasn't enough. You would have made a great Victor, Fiori, and I'm sorry that it wasn't you. RIP.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **The death of a really hated person and a fan favorite. Very emotional for me. Next week is the big reveal and some closing ceremonies. The chapter after that will be the Victory Tour. Then we're done. I hope that this last chapter was enjoyable, see you next week!**

 **QotW: Final thoughts on the Arena?**


	46. Where They Fell

**District 2**

Ajax Graston had the unpleasant feeling of his head being stuck underwater. He could barely breathe, and when he did, it caused more pain than relief. But at the same time, he felt numb. Calm.

His little girl could be alive right now. She could be the Victor. Just like she always said she would be. Ajax's mind was empty of any doubt that she could do it.

But at the same time, she could be dead, through a mere twist of fate and a stroke of bad luck. Ajax really had no way of knowing. They would announce the results in a few hours after waiting for the final bets to come in. For the first time, Ajax felt a stroke of irritation towards Capitolites. Didn't they know that he was waiting to hear the news?

 _Don't,_ he told himself. Anger wouldn't get him anywhere. Besides, Faustia wouldn't like it. He had to honor her...not her memory, but her wishes, at least until she came home to him.

He dragged in another breath, his mind awhirl with possibilities.

 **District 4**

Jupiter Hardy hadn't taken off his Peacekeeper uniform in days. Usually, he tried to change into civilian wear when he was off-duty, to honor the post. But he hadn't felt the motivation since Hector had really thrown himself into fighting. The lines between home and work had gradually blurred together.

He stood in his Peacekeeper position behind the ratty couch, watching the TV. He had been invited to headquarters to watch there, but for some reason, he had declined. Everyone had said that they understood why.

How _could_ they understand?

Even Jupiter didn't quite understand it himself. His boy was worthless. Jupiter had always known that, and he had never been afraid of telling Hector that. If Hector came home a Victor, then Jupiter would be wrong; he could admit that. But he doubted that Hector could come back. The boy just wasn't strong enough.

But if Hector didn't deserve it, then why did Jupiter _want_ him to come home? Why were his emotions twisting around, betraying him?

 **Games Control Medical Center**

"Don't move."

It wasn't _possible_ to move with the nest of wires and tubes, but perhaps it was a nice sentiment to hear from the nurse, sort of? Though she was probably required to care about her job, as any damage to the Victor would lead to her immediate termination, meant quite literally.

If that were so, Hector found that he didn't particularly care.

So what if she died? So what if any of them died, really? Hector still had a burning, passionate _hatred_ of the Capitol within himself. They had manipulated him, twisted him. They had killed Meri.

Pain hit him suddenly, pain that he hadn't been expecting. He felt as though his lungs were being torn apart, as if his heart was being stomped on. Meri was _dead_. He wouldn't leave this place and find her in her rooms, smiling and reading. He wouldn't return to District 4 and spot her on the seashore one day, raking for crabs. He wouldn't hear her voice or her laugh ever again. She was gone. _Forever_.

Somehow, it felt hard to accept, a voice of denial finding its way at the back of his mind. The desolate reality hadn't hit him quite yet, it seemed. How could someone just cease to exist, after all? Especially someone as amazing as Meri? And in just a week? Surely it was all a dream, a nightmare, even. Surely Hector was just pretending that he was strong enough to get back, someone else had won, it was _Meri_ who had won—he was just fooling himself.

He swallowed, the heart monitor speeding up, its beeping slowly picking up into a sort of rapid crescendo. Guilt was filling every part of him. Why hadn't he stayed with Meri? Why hadn't he protected her _better_? Why had he tried to win, when winning meant that he was a pawn of the Capitol? And why was he having these emotions, when these emotions just made him face what he knew to be true—he was alive, and twenty-three other children were dead? _Why?_

His eyes were burning. He felt as though he should have been crying.

But his eyes remained bone dry. Unsure of what he was supposed to be feeling, he stared at the ceiling and listened to the grating beep of the different monitors.

* * *

Hector lost all sense of time within the pristine white walls of the hospital room, sleeping for a few hours and then staring at the ceiling for another few, being fed light foods he barely had to make effort to chew, having a doctor check him for psychological and physical wellness, and then falling asleep again. The cycle had been repeated again and again. It was dreary and a tad confusing, but at least it wasn't challenging. Hector just had to stay still.

One day, the white door was thrown open to reveal not a doctor or a nurse, but Caspian, Hector's mentor. He strode in and took a seat next to Hector. Hector turned onto his side to face him. Caspian smiled slightly.

"You did it."

If the circumstances were a lot more different, the statement probably could've warranted a bit more joy, but all Hector did was shrug, his face betraying no sign of emotion.

"You must be feeling awful," Caspian agreed. "I know how it is. But everyone here is going to help you get better. And the sooner you're able to speak, the sooner you can get the interviews done and go home."

Hector nodded.

"Is there anything I can get you? Would you like some company? I can stay, or I can get Mags…"

Caspian's voice began to fade away. _Company?_ Hector thought. The only person he wanted to see was Meri. But she would never see anyone again.

Caspian lingered for a few minutes and then left the room. Hector turned back onto his back, staring at the ceiling once again. It really was perfectly flat and painted. It reminded him of that last blizzard, when the world had turned completely white. But the room was too quiet to really be comparable to the whiteness of winter. It was warm in there, too. As a room, it simply felt unthreatening.

Hector realized how strange that was, how foreign the feeling seemed to be now. He felt as though something should have been threatening him. After all, the Arena had taught him that life was all about surviving challenges. Without life-threatening challenges, how could he truly be living? More importantly, how did he know that the people around him weren't just waiting for the chance to off him?

But really, how bad would that be?

* * *

Time was blurring, days and faces fusing together, but Hector was sure that it had been at least a week. The nurse was looking more and more frazzled each time he saw her. But the doctor was still smiling through his leonine face. Why wasn't he getting worried? Surely, he were angry with Hector! _Surely_ what Hector was doing wasn't normal! But why wasn't anyone showing more of a reaction? Everyone had something that they wanted, and Hector knew that he wasn't giving them what they wanted, so why weren't they resorting to hurting him?

 _What was this world?_

At some point, though, during the haze between waking and sleep, Hector heard some crashes from down the hall followed by some screams. He immediately grew alert, grabbing for his spear, before remembering that it wasn't there. He found himself feeling completely vulnerable.

The door slammed open. It was Mags. She stomped over to his bed. "Sit up."

Hector gazed at her for a moment.

" _Capitoldammit_ , Hector, sit up!" Her glare was burning, her eyes bright and crackling like a fire, and after a moment, Hector pushed himself up. It took too much effort, and Mags was still glaring at him.

"Alright, Hector, I need you to talk to me."

Hector just stared.

"Are you really this hurt? Are you _really_ going to let everything that happened stop you from living? She wouldn't have wanted this, Hector! Meri would have wanted you to win, but she would have wanted you to _live_ afterwards!"  
"I _am_ living," Hector finally said, slowly, in a voice like paper ripping.

"No, you're not!" Mags yelled. "Someone said catatonia but I knew that couldn't be right, you respond to all the tests correctly, now everyone thinks it's depression and that's definitely not far off the mark! You're letting yourself waste away! You have the ability to speak, to move, and you're throwing it away because you can't face the world!"

Hector had no response. She was right, and he knew it.

"Do you really think that Meri Sutherland would have wanted this?!"  
And finally, _finally,_ the tears bubbled up out of him. They traced lines down his face and fell to the sheets of the hospital bed. _Gone. Gone._ Meri was gone! He had let her die, and she was never going to see her family or her home again!

Mags's smile was bitter and relieved, and she clambered through the maze of wires to sit beside him. She threw her arms around him, steady and warm, and he let himself lean into her.

"It's not your fault," Mags promised him.

Hector just shook his head.

"It's _not._ Don't let yourself believe that it is."

"Then whose fault _is_ it?!" Hector finally spat.

Mags gave him a long look, and in that look, they both knew the answer.

* * *

He improved, finally getting to be free of the wires and machines. He was transferred back to the Tribute Center, where he spent his days going on walks and regaining his strength. Being back in that place was eerie. He sometimes heard the voices of the twenty-three children who had just inhabited these halls. He sometimes heard the voices of the hundreds more that had died in previous years. But then he was reminded of the fact that he was alone. That was the strangest part of it all.

He had to talk with either Mags or Caspian for an hour each day, to get his wits and speaking skills back to him. He was fed heavier food, and could eventually decide for himself what he wanted to eat. His Stylist started coming by, and Hector knew that the closing ceremonies were being arranged. Mags started warning him of the importance of seeming undamaged. If he wanted to get through the upcoming weeks, he needed to be seen as strong and charismatic. He had to pretend, at least, that all of the death hadn't affected him. Mags gravely told him that the consequences of not doing so would be horrible.

Hector knew the basics of what happened to Victors who didn't pay attention to the Capitol. Families found dead, attributed to gas leaks or car accidents. Limbs lost and replaced with Capitol prosthetics, a constant reminder of how omnipotent the Capitol was. Once you were on the watchlist, there was no way off. Hector wondered if he was already on there. He thought of Hermes, and between the shame and anger, wondered if having Hermes for a friend would make Hector the kind of person that the Capitol didn't like.

He almost didn't care whether his family and friends were killed. What did they matter? What did anything matter anymore?

All he was certain of was that Mags was usually right. So he should listen to her.

* * *

For the final interview, he wore a silk suit that changed colors, fading from silver to pink to green to yellow. His makeup was made of the same kind of material, and so was very heavy on his face. Still, he had to admit that he found the changing colors mesmerizing. Not very subtle, but mesmerizing. The Capitol was similarly charmed.

He tried to focus on the changing colors of his pants rather than the recap movie, but as soon as Meri's name was called, his attention was back on the screen. _It's traitorous,_ he realized. To focus on anything but the movie as the movie was playing would be to spit at the memory of every Tribute that had fought and died so that he could be sitting on that stage.

He found himself focused on the screen, unable to look away. His heart jumped every time Meri came onscreen. She was usually with him next to her, and he was surprised to see that he looked strong most of the time, strong and competent, or otherwise _happy,_ with a smile spread across his face.

 _She made me happy._

He realized halfway through that he was rooting for Fiori to make it home. They had painted her as a family woman, if not a bit incendiary. His respect for her—for all of the Tributes—grew. He felt a lump growing in his throat as he remembered that none of them would walk this stage again. They were all gone. _Snap, poof,_ just like that.

"So how are you feeling about your victory?" Uphriel asked him.

"I'm feeling pretty good about it." These words had been drilled into him. "I fought well, and while I went up against worthy adversaries, I made it to the top thanks to my own strength and the grace of the Capitol."

"So you feel worthy of your victory?"  
"Yes. If I wasn't worthy, then I wouldn't be standing here." Hector wondered if he was the only one aware of how hollow his words were. He wanted to find Mags in the crowd, but forced himself to stay focused on Uphriel. They exchanged a few more questions, going over how the Games had been, how Hector had felt.

"Do you miss Meri?"

The spotlights suddenly blinded him. Hector took a deep breath. "Of course I do. She was an amazing person, in every way."  
Uphriel laughed. "I think we were all wondering, was there something between you?"

His heartbeat was loud in his ears. "It's the Games," Hector flatly said. "There's not much of an opportunity for anything to occur."

"And in a different world?"

"I don't know."

Uphriel pressed him a few more times, but dropped the subject when it became clear that Hector wasn't going to answer. "Are you excited to go home?" he asked next.

"Yes. It will be nice to see District Four again. I've missed the ocean."

"And seeing your father?"

"Will be nice as well. I hope that I've made him proud."  
"So do we all! Though I understand that's a hard thing to achieve. Will you be visiting District Two now that you have the means?"

District 2 wasn't just Hector's mother's grave, it was Faustia's. He could never go there, not now. "I'll have to see what happens. I still need some time to recuperate—at least, that's what the doctors say. Though Mags might force me to trek across Panem."

The audience roared with laughter, and Hector let himself look at Mags. She was grinning good-naturedly. It was utterly fake.

Hector continued with his interview, giving half-truths to satisfy all of Uphriel's questions. His mouth and throat were dry by the end, his voice rough with all of the use. No one offered him water or throat reliever. His eyes were watering from the lights, but he didn't let the drops fall. He watched Uphriel's serpentine lips and wondered if he would ever look like that in the future.

When the interview finished, ecstatic, hungry crowds pushed at Hector from all sides as he made his way back to Tribute Center. Peacekeepers—it could have been his father under one of those masks, and he never would have noticed—surrounded him, pushing the throngs back, and Hector once again wished that he had a knife so he could defend himself when someone inevitably attacked him. The noises, the lights—they were all too much.

Eventually, Mags and Caspian came to his side, and Mags took his hand and Caspian put an arm around his shoulders and they led him back to his rooms. Caspian helped him into bed. Hector was shivering unstoppably, which didn't make sense—he wasn't cold. He felt surprisingly unhumiliated when Caspian pulled the covers around him and plugged a small light into a wall socket.

He went to sleep and woke up screaming less than two hours later. Caspian was there, steady hands untangling the choking blankets and helping him up. Hector was hyperventilating, unable to get control of himself. _I'm dead_ — _they're dead_ — _they need their revenge_ — _what do I do_ —

Caspian's voice was steady and calm and eventually cut through the haze. "...on my count. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, five, six…" Hector tried to breathe with the rhythm Caspian set out, bringing himself back into control. It took a while, but eventually his breath was back to normal. But he couldn't push away the thoughts of the twisted bodies that hungered for his death, the screams that had filled his nightmares.

He couldn't force out any of the questions. He wanted to ask, but he didn't have the courage to. _Do the nightmares stop? Do they get better? Will I feel happy? Will I feel like this is worth it?_

He woke up twice more that night, and each time, Caspian was there to help him get through it. Hector felt some pity for the Victors that didn't have mentors to help them get through nights like these. How did they do it? How was it possible to have nightmares like this and not lose your sanity?

Over the next three days, Hector was piloted through a series of parties through the Capitol, at the homes of the wealthy, politicians, and socialites. His suits were themed with one of the four seasons, with the other three seasons somehow accenting it: the colors of autumn leaves embroidered with flowers; icy, shimmering blue cloth with fruit designs on the hems. He also had a purple cape that paired well with the Victor's crown. Mags and Caspian were always within ten meters of him, watching him as they spoke with other people. Hector kept a smile on his face the whole time, trying to be pleasant as he talked with the people that had sponsored him and bet on him. He thought that they were disgusting. He would have burned them alive if he could. But he didn't let those emotions show.

It was easier than he thought it would be. It was as if most of his emotions had fled after he had left the Arena. He felt numb most of the time. It made pretending easier.

On the third night, after dancing and laughing amidst the dazzling colors and gluttony of the party, he found himself speaking with a tall, handsome man in a black suit. The man was less made-up than the other attendees, and it was a few moments before Hector realized he was talking with the president.

His heart nearly stopped, but he desperately tried not to change his demeanor, being pleasant and deferent and exuding as much charisma as he could without being offensive. The President didn't act very interested in how Hector was feeling, and that threw Hector off guard. He had assumed that the President would be as frivolous and nosy as every other Capitolian. But no, the President was harried and distracted.

 _He has work to do. Work, as in figuring out how to kill the most people._ Hector was glad when the conversation stopped.

He had a few final interviews, performed in Capitol soundstages with Uphriel and several other interviewers. There was a specific station that broadcasted to District 4 supporters—!Four Fanatics!—as they called themselves. There was another station that his stylist told him primarily romance shows. They asked a lot of questions about Meri. He tried to honor her memory as much as he could without being put on some sort of watchlist. All in all, the final days in the Capitol were just a haze.

And then they were boarding a train and preparing to go back to District 4. Back home. Caspian's room on the train was connected to Hector's through a door, and Hector was embarrassed that people knew about how childish and afraid he was being. Having nightmares didn't suit the persona of a Victor.

Maybe it was just the fact that he was on a train, but he had a relatively good night on the way back home. He only had one nightmare, which he didn't even need Caspian to help him through. He awoke the next morning and went out for breakfast, swaying with the train. Mags was the only person in the room when he got there, without even any Avoxes serving them.

She nodded at him, unsmiling, and went back to drinking something and looking over some papers. Hector didn't try to engage with her. He wasn't sure how to. She had let Caspian take over with helping him get through things emotionally, while she had stuck with creating schedules and setting up interviews.

A half hour into trying to stomach some toast, Hector offhandedly asked, "do you hate me?"

Mags started. "No. What would make you think that?"

"You were Meri's mentor. Not mine."

Mags shook her head. "District Four protects District Four—and don't say any bullshit about being from District Two, Hector. You're one of ours. One of mine. I knew that one of you was going to have to die, and I'm just happy that one of you made it back, in the end."

Hector nodded, digesting that information. "But do you...do you wish that she had made it back?"

Mags put down her cup and stared at Hector, reaching out and taking his hand. "Listen to me, Hector Hardy. I am glad that you're alive. You're a good man. You deserve to be here. And it's normal to grieve, and we are all grieving for Meri, but even as we grieve, you need to know that we are ecstatic that you made it home."

Hector nodded, a lump in his throat that was unrelated to food.

"I know that I haven't been talking with you much—honestly, Caspian told me that I was too rough on new Victors. I know that when he won, I wasn't much help to me. I was—I was young. I just hope that I can help you now, Hector. Whatever you need—just tell me, and I'll help you. We're going to get through this, Hector. Together. You've got a new family now."

Hector blinked rapidly, trying to think of the right way to respond. Was she telling the truth about not favoring Meri over him?

"I wish that she'd won," Hector finally said, his voice small. "I just—"

Mags smacked him on the shoulder. "Stop. Never let anyone hear you say that, good _Capitol,_ Hector, they'll kill you!"

* * *

They arrive back in District 4 around noon. The crowds outside were cheering, stuffing the area around the train station so that there was little room between people. It was a hot day, too, and Hector didn't know how any of the celebrators could bear it.

The sunlight blinded him as he stepped out of the train, the screams overwhelming him. He nearly collapsed. His breath was coming quick and fast—suddenly, he was back in the Arena, Faustia was being tortured, they were all dying—

He felt hands at his shoulder and shoved whoever was trying to touch him— _they'll kill me_ — _I'm going to_ —

"Hector."

A voice cut through the haze. "Hector, breathe."

He dragged in breath, and then the hand was back at his shoulder. It was just Caspian. Hector let his mentor touch him, trying to get his breath in sync. Mags was still speaking to him. "I know, I know, this is awful, and if I had my way you wouldn't be doing it—but you need to, so just try to get through these fifteen minutes, and then I promise I'll make them leave you alone until the damn Victory Tour."

Hector tried to be brave.

He opened his eyes wide, focusing on the crowd. They were throwing flowers at him, cheering. He heard his name being shouted by a few of them—it was an overwhelming show of support.

There was a whole section of the crowd, though, dressed in all black. They weren't shouting his name, just applauding him, with expressions like they just didn't know what they thought of Hector yet. Somehow, Hector understood that they were Cliffies. Some of Meri's people, coming to meet him as he returned home with her corpse.

Their applause felt like more to him than the cheers of everyone else in the District.

A contingent of Peacekeepers approached. One of them took their helmet off, and Hector saw the face of his father. The man was neutral as always, unreadable. Hector felt some of the old yearnings— _are you proud of me, you always said that you'd only think I wasn't a waste if I became a Victor_ —but mostly he felt nothing. He was beyond caring what Jupiter Hardy thought. That was a childish wish. And Hector was no longer a child.

Jupiter nodded at him, coming to stand a foot away and holding out his hand. Hector reached out and shook, reminding himself of shaking hands with Meri in what couldn't have been just two weeks ago.

"Congratulations, boy," Hector's father said, and in Jupiter's voice Hector heard a twinge of actual emotion.

"Thank you," Hector replied coldly.

And then Jupiter dropped his hand and stepped back into the mass of Peacekeepers. Mags and Caspian shuttled him away from the crowds. They got into a car and drove for a good few hours, away from the heart of the District, towards the cleaner, more open areas that made up Victors' Village. Caspian showed him into his house, and Hector entered. The air inside was stale, the furniture shiny.

Hector didn't come out for a long time.

—

* * *

 **Eulogies:**

 **Faustia:** Faustia was quite possibly the strongest Tribute here. She was heavily trained and incredibly determined, and despite being sort of bland, she had everything that it took to win. She was also a relatively nice person, with the ability to make friends and an immense loyalty to whatever she felt deserved it. This niceness almost makes you forget the fact that she wanted to be in the Games, which is...a bit misguided. Whether she deserved to make it home morally is up for debate, but she definitely deserved to go home in that she was the most dedicated to winning from the start, for the 'right' reasons. Sadly, in the end, luck just wasn't on her side. RIP, Faustia.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Hector is the Victor! Which I think matches popular opinion. Good job, Hector, have fun with your trauma.**

 **Due to me being out of town, the Victory Tour chapter won't be up for another two weeks. Sorry.**


	47. Gods Thrown Down and Trumpets Blown

**District 12**

It had been half a year, and Isadora Keane had started to adjust to her best friend being gone. Khol had been one of her only friends, and her best friend at that. They had known each other for years. Most of Isadora's secrets had found a safe place in Khol. She understood why the rest of the District had hated him so much, but she thought that their reasons were skewed—Khol was a nice guy, and deserved to be whoever he wanted to be. Was it so much different than wanted to be the Mayor rather than a coal miner?

He hadn't deserved to die. Some days, Isadora woke up and thought of something she needed to tell Khol, before remembering that he was gone forever. Would she ever be able to get over his death? And could she have averted it, by using her influence on him to make him be less open about who he was? Isadora knew she would never have the answers to those questions.

She tried to move through life as best she could. People died all the time, Isadora couldn't let herself be consumed by grief or regret. She'd never survive if she did.

Scorlia Ward still hadn't gotten over Ezrael's death. He had meant everything to her—he had been friend, confidante, partner in crime, the object of her affections. She had known that there was a high chance of one of the Home kids being picked—but why did it have to be Ezrael? Ezrael's death, too, on the first day—that had been expected. 12 kids never made it far. But seeing him cut down like that—it was shocking. Scorlia was glad, at least, that Faustia had not won. She didn't think that she could bear seeing Faustia standing, triumphant, on the podium.

District 12 in winter was freezing. That was the first thing that Hector noticed as he stepped off of the train. But it wasn't like the winters of District 2 that Hector vaguely remembered. Those were filled with clean snow and clear air that cleaned out your lungs and had a snap to it. The cold air of District 12 was dank, dirty. Everything was covered in coal dust, too, even the buildings of the square, which were the richest in the District. It was strange to see the marble of the Justice Building gray with dust.

How did people breathe around here? Hector stared out at the faces of the miners. They were like cattle, dead-eyed, packed into the tiny space and told to watch him. He looked at the small stages where Khol and Ezrael's family's should've been standing and immediately thought that there must have been a mistake, since there was no one there.

Then he realized that there was a single person on Khol's stage, small and covered in a ratty old coat that was much too big for them. A parent? A sibling? And Ezrael—he had been from a community home. There was no one to grieve him.

Truly, no one seemed to be grieving in this place. It was as if none of them cared that they had once again failed to bring someone home. And why would they? That was the point of this Games, after all.

The feast afterwards was meager and flavorless, with few people in attendance and almost no talking. There weren't even any cameras.

Hector was rushed back to the train afterwards, and then they roared away.

 **District 11**

Jedd Dalison woke up every morning and then remembered that Luke was gone. He would spend the next few minutes lying in bed, feeling as though there was a hole ripped into his chest and as though life was completely futile. Then his roommate would force him to get up and go to work. It was a daily routine.

Funny, Jedd had always resigned himself to living on an all-work schedule, working his fingers to the bone and having one day of rest if he was lucky. He just hadn't realized how tedious and exhausting it was. He hadn't realized just how much joy Luke brought him. Luke was a light in his life, making him laugh and think and love, making him _happy._ Without Luke, Jedd's days were a stream of monotony, and he knew that's what it would be like until the day he died. He wanted to believe that he had a second chance at love. He wanted to believe that the wounds of the past could be healed, that he could one day get over what he had lost. After all, he was only nineteen. He still had time. But despite all of his logical assurances, he didn't believe himself.

The entire District had breathed a sigh of relief when Mist had finally gone down. Most people were of the opinion that she had deserved much worse, after everything that she had done, but there was no debate that everyone was much safer now that Mist had been ridded from their District. Danger still lurked around every corner, but one of the threats was finally gone.

Stepping off of the train came as a shock to Hector. It was hot and humid, despite it being the middle of winter. It reminded him of District 4 in that way, though it was even hotter. The town square was surrounded by fields and orchards as far as the eye could see. It was packed with people, way more than there had been in District 12, and Hector wondered if 11 wasn't the largest District. With so many people, with such good reasons to hate the Capitol, why wasn't there more rebellion? Unlike District 12, the attitude of the people wasn't sad or neutral. No one looked very upset. In fact, Hector thought that he sensed an air of satisfaction among the throngs of people.

Mist's platform was empty, but Hector had trouble feeling sorry for her, knowing who she was. Luke's platform had three young people standing on it. They were huddled together, towards the back of the platform, as far away from Hector as they could get. Hector felt regret for the way Luke had died, killed by his own District partner.

There was more chatter at this party, which showed off the best fruits and vegetables that District 11 had to offer. There were foods that Hector had never seen before, which apparently had been developed in District 11 and were a local thing. The dialect, too, had lots of colloquialisms and pronunciations that Hector hadn't heard before. It reminded him of the way that Capitolians had their own version of the language, in a way. People made sure to talk to him formally, but Hector found that he liked closing his eyes and listening to the strange voices and sounds around him. District 11 was no doubt subjugated and hard to live in, but it was sturdy and resilient.

 **District 10**

Nikki Hart's home felt empty without Fiori in it. Of course there were still hundreds of things to worry about: feeding the chickens, fixing the leaks in the roof, paying taxes when the collectors randomly showed up on their doorstep. Of course there were still things to talk to: Nikki's mother, and the chickens, who were friendlier than one might expect. But Fiori's absence left a gaping hole that nothing could fill. Never again would Fiori manage to patch up the pipes with some tape or stop the chickens from rioting, never again would she comfort Nikki or insult her or play games with her. Nikki missed her sister, her best friend, more than words could say. She knew that her mother was in just as much pain, but her mother was quiet about it, not letting Nikki know just how badly things were going. Nikki appreciated it, but she didn't want to be treated like a child anymore. She wanted to take over all of Fiori's responsibilities, and live up to her sister's memory. She wanted to honor Fiori as best she could.

She had a mean sort of happiness that Hector had won. Nikki didn't think that she could stand to see her sister's killer standing on the stage, being honored. And Fiori and their mother got so angry anytime a Career won, because they were Capitol-lovers, loyalists. At least Hector had some morals. At least he had seemed like a kind person. At least he hadn't killed Fiori. But at the same time, Nikki hated him with a burning passion. If he hadn't been standing there, then maybe Fiori would have been instead.

Trisha Fields didn't like to face that fact that she was relieved at her son's death. Talon had been her little boy at one point, her child, someone that she loved and was supposed to love unconditionally, but there was no denying that there was something completely wrong about him. She wasn't sure that Talon hadn't killed his father, her husband. He had shown utter joy at destroying his siblings' effigies when the Gamemakers had offered him the chance—Colby and Freya had sobbed for hours afterwards. She definitely knew that Talon was a killer, and delighted in it. Was it so wrong to be happy that he was gone?

The Victory Tour made her remember the sigh of relief she had breathed when he had finally been killed. It made her remember all of her complicated feelings towards her dead son and husband, towards her broken family. She didn't want to stand up on that platform and admit to the world that she had raised a psychopath. But part of her remembered when Talon had been young and undamaged, laughing and even kind to Jesse at times. How had things gone so wrong?

District 10 was the hardest yet for Hector to face. Fiori had gotten so far, and she easily could've won. He hadn't killed her, but it had honestly been a toss-up between his life and hers, and he had come out on top. Still, the air of the square was strangely mixed. Half the people were glaring at him, and half the people seemed ambivalent or respectful. Fiori's mother and sister weren't even glaring at him, just staring at him with hard expressions. Hector added a paragraph about his opinions on Fiori, nodding respectfully at her family when he finished. He didn't know how to properly apologize for what had happened, and he knew that he could not.

When Hector looked at Talon's family, the wound Talon had given him ached. He remembered how close Talon had come to killing him, but he didn't feel bitter, just slightly sad. Talon's family didn't seem upset, though. The two children on the platform were all but smiling, and the three older people seemed to have respect in their eyes.

It was a strange place, a quiet place. Snow began to fall halfway through Hector's speech, blanketing the world and stifling it even more. The people here didn't seem to want to rebel, and Hector wondered if they even knew what the word meant. They moved with purpose, scattering quickly after his speech was over, as if they had work to get to, as if Hector was just a distraction in their day.

The feast afterwards was quiet as well. People congratulated him and exchanged a few words, and then moved on. The food was the main focus, and even that portion of the celebration was over quickly. The District 4 team was in and out in several hours. But Hector couldn't stop thinking about it.

 **District 9**

Cassie Channing had wanted to celebrate when her sister had finally died. Florence had promised to come back, and it had seemed like she was going to keep that promise, getting to the final four—and Cassie knew that if Florence came back, Florence would have killed her, just like Florence had killed Draven. All of Cassie's fears about Florence were finally proven true, especially to their parents, and Cassie finally knew that she wasn't a liar or paranoid, she was _right_. It was a warm feeling.

But she had been at home when Florence had finally died, and her parents had been shocked. Her mother had even started crying, and at that moment, Cassie had realized that she couldn't trust her parents for anything. Her parents' grief made her wonder if she should be sad too. But then she remembered Draven, the brother she would never bad because Florence had _murdered_ him. She had left the house and gone outside to where her town had been celebrating the death as well. And she had appreciated it. Maybe she was broken as well.

When his son had died, Isaac Malakai had stood up and punched the wall so hard that he split the skin on his knuckles. It had felt good, and he had done it over and over, until both of his fists were bleeding and bruised. Then he had collapsed in a chair. Lucy was gone, now Kronos was gone—Isaac was a man that had nothing left. He daily felt regret for his relationship with his son—it had been better when they were young, when the boy's mother was still alive, but when Lucy had died, neither of them had known how to deal with it, and they had grown apart. If Isaac was a better father, a better man, he could have stopped Kronos from becoming the person he was, and from being voted into the Games. Of _course_ Kronos had turned out badly. He hadn't had any guidance from anyone about how to be a good person.

The worst part was that Kronos could have come home. He really could have managed it, and he had been so close. But then all of those dreams and hopes had been cut short, and Isaac had been forced to watch as his son bled out on the wintry ground.

District 9 was harder than District 10, as it turned out. Though the air of the District was downright celebratory, though Hector knew who Florence was—it didn't stop him from knowing that he had _killed_ someone. And now he had to face her family. Her mother was sobbing, her father was just staring forward with a blank expression—Hector knew that he had broken that family, that he had hurt them, and that scared him. He had the ability to harm, and the consequences for his actions extended so far beyond the people he had killed.

Florence's little sister, though, clasped her hands and raised them slightly, nodding at him. A symbol of thanks, of respect. Hector swallowed, somehow feeling sicker than ever. He wanted to believe that he had been justified, that he had done some good, but he knew that that view was completely wrong. Kronos's father didn't seem to care that his son was dead, standing with his arms crossed, looking as though he'd like to be anywhere else. He was a cold person in a District with hundreds of warm personalities celebrating their dead.

The people at the feast were all but thanking him, and Hector didn't know how to respond. He was glad to leave.

 **District 8**

Heather Rasch felt as though one half of her had been torn away. She was so used to being part of a set, of being one of the Rasch twins, that she wasn't quite sure how to function without her clone standing beside her all the time. The fact that it should have been her in the Games made everything a million times worse. Jeanna had died for Heather's sins. That wasn't fair, and Heather knew that she was an awful person. A monster! She had all but killed her twin sister!

And she knew that the District hated her. She walked through the streets looking exactly like the girl they had sent to her death. There was an air of regret and anger wherever Heather went. She started to stay inside as much as possible, darting back home as soon as work ended, never going out when it wasn't for work. If Jeanna couldn't experience anything new, then why should Heather be able to?

Gregori Redglove was ashamed of his son. Midas had almost done it. He had gotten the Capitol to eat out of the palm of his hand. He had surrounded himself with a layer of protection, weak as they had been. But Gregori hadn't brought his son up to have his plans revealed. Having any scheme uncovered was an utter failure, everyone knew that, and Midas was a failure for not seeing all of the outcomes that had led to his death. Gregori had shut off the TV long before Midas had died. He didn't need to watch the failure that he had created blundering through the Games. Midas wouldn't win, Gregori had always known that. And life would go on.

District 8 was smoggy, the snow that fell grayish, the air grayish-brown. The people were grimy, too. The entire place seemed to be coated in rust. Hector wore a forest green suit. It was the brightest color in the entire square.

Jeanna's entire family, crushed onto the platform, was sobbing. Midas's father was stoic. The two sets of mourners were like fire and ice, but Hector knew which set his father would've been like. Regret expanded within him. Jeanna should've gotten to go home, to this family that was bereft. Or more to the point, Fiori or even Faustia should've gotten to go home—they had families that cared for them. Unlike Hector. What gave him the right to enjoy life?

The people at the feast were respectful, deferential. They made sure that his every wish was carried out, and their cuisine was a strange mix of foods Hector had seen in other Districts, unlike the places where the foods had been at least a bit localized. The windows were gray. It was the most industrialized place that Hector had ever been.

Halfway through, he spotted Midas's father, across the room. He remembered that Gregori Redglove was famous, prominent in District 8. Fear blossomed within him, that Gregori would try and talk with him. But when Gregori caught a glimpse of him, he just smiled slightly, in what was almost a smirk, as if he knew what Hector was thinking.

Leaving felt more like fleeing.

 **District 7**

Wayne Mitchell was required to respect Victors, and he had no issue with that. In previous years, even when the Victor had killed either of the District 7 Tributes, he had applauded them. After all, if they were still alive, then they deserved their Victory. But for some reason, he couldn't make himself not hate Hector Hardy. He knew he was supposed to think that Kaede's death was just atonement to the Capitol for the uprising, that if Kaede wasn't alive, he didn't deserve to be, but all of that sounded hollow at this point.

Winona Mildeye had gotten over Acacia's death quickly. She had never expected Acacia to come home, nor to amount to anything if she hadn't gone into the Games, so it hadn't been much of a loss. She had briefly wondered if Acacia's father was grieving, but as the man had never met his daughter, she doubted it. Grief was a waste of time, Winona would be thinking that even if Acacia hadn't been so useless. The Capitol demanded its tax on their youth, and it was Winona's duty to fulfill that. There was nothing complicated about it.

Hector had woken up seven times in the last night after horrible nightmares, and he was full of stress at seeing Mayor Mildeye. She had been the mother to one of the Tributes—she must have hated him. And the idea of seeing Kaede's family was awful—Hector had killed Kaede. Kaede could've lived if Hector hadn't ended his life.

But if Mayor Mildeye hated him, she didn't show it. She was respectful and congratulatory, giving him his bouquet and plaque and then stepping off of the stage and onto Acacia's platform, where a young man also stood, smirking. Hector guessed that he was Acacia's brother, but there wasn't much family resemblance. The man's smile made Hector sick.

On the other platform was Kaede's family. It took Hector a while to get the courage to look at him. They were all stoically staring at him, but as the cameras took a close-up, Hector could see pain in their eyes. He stumbled over the words in his speech, unnerved, feeling lost.

The Mitchells and Mayor Mildeye were all at the feast afterwards, as well. They were all expected to interact, and Hector was nearly vomiting by the time he was forced to face Mr. Mitchell.

The man didn't show much emotion, asking Hector a few questions about business and congratulating him on his victory. Hector thanked him, feeling sick, feeling like a monster. He couldn't explain, but—the father of Kaede, congratulating his son's killer—

Panem was an awful place. Irredeemable. Hector knew that now.

He spent much of the first few hours on the train vomiting up what little food he had eaten.

 **District 6**

Angelica Turner couldn't shake the feeling that she had killed her best friend. When the interviews had aired, her words had been twisted—all the words on Zoe had been twisted—and Angelica had known that this would hurt Zoe's sponsor base, and that this was all her fault. What made everything worse was the knowledge that Zoe could've won, easily. It was just a bad luck. It was so unfair!

At least Adalicia and Fiori hadn't won. Angelica wouldn't've been able to stand that. But anyone winning other than Zoe was a loss, and an insult to the name of strength. After everything Zoe had been through, she deserved to come home and finally be able to live out of the deadly shadow of her parents and the Skull.

Everyone was glad that Percival was dead. He hadn't had any family or friends, and he had been responsible for one of the biggest train disasters in District 6 history. No one missed him, and no one regretted their votes.

There were things that Hector wanted to say about both Zoe and Percival, but he didn't have the right to say them. He hadn't known them, and he hadn't mourned them when they had died, no matter how much they appeared in his dreams and regrets in the time after the Games. The air of the District was strangely vindictive, but despite that, the faces of everyone in the square were afraid. Hector glanced at Zoe's platform and saw her parents, and remembered that they were part of a gang. He wondered if other gang members were standing in the crowd, posing a threat to the other people here. His heart beat faster. He wished that he had a weapon.

The feast was quiet, the food poor, and the building dirty. Hector would have liked to go outside, but the air quality was awful and made him cough. He didn't want to imagine living here, and felt pity for everyone that had to. The mayor looked harried and left fifteen minutes into the luncheon, and District 6's one Victor was clearly tripping. It was a sad place, a place where everyone was slowly dying before Hector's eyes.

His dreams that night were full of large, glassy eyes and crashing trains.

 **District 5**

Alice Wood had become something of an outcast after her sister's death, although that had been partly her choice. She wasn't able to stomach the District that had sent her sister to her death for no discernable reason. She woke up every night from nightmares, and her days were filled with regret that she hadn't been able to protect her little sister. She was at least glad that Hector had won. He had killed her sister's killer, and that was all that Alice could ask for—a bit of indirect revenge. Besides, during the Games, he had come off as a nice guy, something of a protector, though his relationship with Meri. He wasn't the worst person to win. Alice would be able to get through the ceremony without trying to murder him.

Kira Mercer had nightmares, too, mostly about the gruesome way in which her big brother had died. The second that Landon had been discovered by Florence and Kronos, Kira's mother had sent her to her room and told her to plug her ears. It hadn't done much. The event had also been broadcasted on the huge TVs in the town square, at such loud volumes that Kira had been able to hear it even while her head was under her pillow. She was glad that Hector had won. He had killed the girl that had tortured her brother to death. That as all that Kira could ask for, once her big brother had left her behind in the world of the living.

On the day of the Victory Tour, Kira really washed herself for the first time in a few months, and wore one of her mother's dresses. It made her feel adult. She had dropped out of school a few weeks after Landon had died, needing to help support herself and her mother, and while people had hated her brother, they at least didn't bother her. Maybe some of them felt sorry. It didn't matter; Kira would never forgive them.

 _I hope that you can see me now,_ Kira thought. _I'm grown-up now, Lanny, you'd be proud. I wish you were here, so much. But you don't have to worry about me. I love you._

District 5 was just as crushed-together as the Districts 6 and 8, but it seemed a lot cleaner. The people, too, seemed better fed, or at least farther away from starving. They were more active, fidgeting, Hector thought that he could see more of a spark in the eyes of the people that the cameras zoomed in on. It was livelier than the other industrial Districts so far.

Robin's parents were both crying silently, and Hector could barely look at them. A girl that must have been Robin's sister was standing stoically on the stage, but her lips were trembling as well. Landon's little sister was sniffing, tears running down her face, and Landon's mother just looked tired and regretful. The District was quiet, neither vindictive or triumphant or filled with grief. The sadness of both families cut Hector to the core. He choked halfway through his speech, and had to wait a moment before he could go on. He wished that there was something he could do to help these families. But his hands were tied. This was why rebellion was necessary. But Hector knew that he was a traitor to the rebel cause. No _true_ rebel would have won the Games.

Hector got to go on a brief tour of 5, seeing different types of power plants. The tour guide was pleasant enough, and the workers at the plants would crane their necks to look at him and then look away immediately, as if their eyes were burning when they saw him. At the feast, the mayor and several owners of District 5 factories happily lectured him on how energy and sanitation and infrastructure worked in District 5. Hector got the feeling that 5 was proud of its attempts at self-improvement, and the District was impressive, but it was nothing compared to the richness of Districts 4 and 2, let alone the Capitol.

 _Ignorance is bliss,_ Hector reminded himself. He wasn't going to disturb someone's hard-earned pride at improving life quality. Never again was he going to ruin someone's happiness.

 **District 3**

Riya Kapoor missed her cousin. Zara had never been the kindest or friendliest person, and the two of them fought more than they smiled, but Zara was still family. They had all been grieving her loss. And after Zara's death, Riya had realized just how much she respected Zara. Zara's outspoken anger and opposing ideals led to strife in their family, but they were at least interesting, and only now did Riya realize how eagerly she had listened to Zara's angry speeches. Zara shouldn't have died. Riya just hoped that her next life would be a pleasant one.

Perly Corda was not looking forward to the Victory Tour. It was a day that he had to let his workers take off, which hurt his profit levels. And it was the day that he would once again be publicly expected to grieve Cabe's death. Mr. Corda had been upset after Cabe had died. The boy had gotten farther than Mr. Corda had expected, and Cabe had been Perly's (useless) son and heir. Perly hadn't been surprised when he had died, though he had been surprised at his wife's subsequent suicide—apparently, she didn't want to live life without her beloved son, fool that she was. Still, apparently his grief wasn't enough. People expected more from him. _Why,_ Perly didn't understand—the District had _wanted_ Cabe to die, they weren't grieving, they were probably glad that Perly had lost everything.

District 3 was visible from miles away, the tall, spindly buildings nearly as high as the ones in the Capitol, though not as nicely colored. As Hector stepped off the train, the entire square fell silent. District 3 seemed to be full of rickety people, thin and tall, people that matched the buildings.

The two families were practically the opposite of each other. Zara's family was gigantic, nearly every square inch on the platform being filled, and most of them were crying. Cabe only had a single person on his platform, who looked upset, but wasn't crying. Hector nearly had his speech memorized by now, and he was able to deliver it without too much of a hitch. There was polite applause afterwards, and then people drifted away. Most of Zara's large family was still staring at him, as if he was going to grow wings or something. Hector nodded at them, trying to convey his regrets.

Once again, Mr. Corda was one of the people at the feast afterwards. Hector only exchanged a few words with him, but it seemed that Mr. Corda wasn't interested in talking about his son. Rather, he wanted to discuss business, technology, _anything_ other than his son. Hector understood that people dealt with grief in different ways, and he was glad not to have to discuss Cabe. Still, something felt very _off_ about Mr. Corda. The rest of the people at the feast were a strange mix of nervous and prideful. They knew what they were doing when it came to technology, that was for sure—Hector had sort of assumed that everyone in District 3 being a technology whiz was a stereotype, but apparently it was true. Still, many of them were jumpy, and they were all clearly underfed, even the mayor, except for a few factory owners. The difference was clear and it made Hector's mind buzz with the unfairness of it all.

He made himself remember that it wasn't the fault of the healthier factory owners that they were so well-fed. They were trying to make a life for themselves. The Capitol was the cause of it all, that was what Hector had always known—and yet, Hector was forgetting that already.

 **District 2**

Robin Bingham didn't know what he was supposed to feel. His relationship with Ash had always been confusing. No one had been very supportive of it, and Robin hadn't let it become exclusive. Ash had always been more dedicated to the relationship than Robin was, and Ash was an incredibly weird, aggravating person. By all rights, Robin didn't deserve to grieve Ash. And yet, he did. He lay awake at night, wondering how things could've been different and how he could have treated Ash better, given Ash more happiness. He dreamed of a world where Ash was alive and where they could be together for just another few hours, despite how much they had grated against each other.

 _What were you thinking while you died?_ Robin wondered. _Were you glad that you saved that little girl? You were always a better person than me, even if you wouldn't admit it. Or could you see that she was doomed, no matter how hard you tried to protect her? Or could you tell that none of this matters, because in the end, we all die and the best you can try to do is not die alone?_

Livia Graston was devastated. She knew the odds of winning the Games, and knew that they were low. She had always known that Faustia would probably die in the Games, ever since Faustia had started training at eleven. But like an idiot, Livia had convinced herself that Faustia would come home. And Faustia had almost made it. It was sheer unluckiness that had kept life out of her grasp. That was the unbearable part. Now, even hearing Hector Hardy's name or a passing mention of District 4 made Livia feel as though she was being ripped open and left to the dogs. Livia's little sister was gone. How was she supposed to face that fact?

She should have fought more. She should have stopped Faustia from going into the Games. If they had been closer, if Livia had managed to get Faustia interested in medicine or government or ironwork or literally _anything_ other than the Games, then none of this would have happened.

Would Faustia have been happy like that? Maybe, maybe not. But who cared about happiness, as long as they were alive?!

District 2 was the hardest. Hector had always known that it would be.

The District wasn't even that angry, though, just silent. Respectful. It was a place that respected strength and accepted that whoever was up on the stage deserved to be there. Hector hated it. He would have preferred if they had booed and jeered him, tried to kill him. _Anything_ other than the deferent quiet. Ash's father inclined his head towards Hector when they met eyes.

Hector forced himself to look towards Faustia's platform—the platform of the woman he had murdered, the girl that he had stolen away from home at the last moment. He didn't deserve to look at them, but it was his duty, his punishment. (Not penance—that would never be achieved.) Bile rose in his throat. Faustia's parents were stone-faced, not even showing grief. But the younger woman on the platform—pain was evident in her face, even as she tried to look strong.

Something inside of Hector snapped. No matter that Faustia was a trained Tribute—she should be standing here, _she_ had the family that wanted her back, that loved her—the District that loved her—the reasons to come back—and yet, _he_ was the one that had made it—how was that fair?! Why was he alive, and she dead?!

The world spun around him, the cameras focusing in on him like the eyes of buzzards waiting for their next meal. Everyone— _everyone_ —was watching, and Hector simply couldn't breathe! And why did he deserve to? He should be dead, too, just like his 23 competitors—just like Faustia—Kaede—Florence— _Meri_ —

Hours later, back on the train, Mags and Caspian informed him that he had collapsed on the stage. He had stood back up and delivered a few more words before being hustled onto the train. There would be no luncheon or meeting with the mayor.

It must have been clear to everyone in the world that he was a monster that could not face the consequences of his actions.

 **District 1**

Jasper Corona wanted to leave his wife. He still loved Grace, mostly—despite her huge mistake last winter, a year ago, he had understood that unluckiness was a part of it. She had been his wife for twelve years, the mother of his two children and a love of his life. But now, whenever he looked at her, he just saw Adalicia.

Adalicia, who Grace's mistakes had killed. Adalicia, who he had been unable to protect, Adalicia, whose death had been a pointed nod to what Grace had done. No matter how guilty Grace was, it would never suffice to soothe the wounds of Adalicia's death. Jasper couldn't take being around anyone that he knew any longer. He wanted to turn into dust and forget the pain of losing his little girl.

Carlysle Sapphire had lost both of her sons to the Hunger Games. True, dying in the Games was the most honorable way to go, and true, Paris had always been useless, but still. Being a parent in District 1 meant that your children were your hopes for the future. They would provide for you in your old age, be your pride and joy. And now Carlysle had lost all of that insurance and glory. She had been left with nothing but a crippled husband and the pitying words of an uncaring District. Bitterly, she wondered why Paris had allowed himself to die—he had _known_ what that would mean for her. Why was he so selfish?

District 1 was easy after the disaster of District 2. The people there viewed him as a curiosity, an entertaining show. They were all beautiful and Hector was pretty sure that they looked down on him for all of his physical and charismatic imperfections. Still, it wasn't hard to deliver the speeches. Yes, Adalicia had been only thirteen years old, but in the end, everyone that had died was a child. Was it so much worse that she was a year younger than some of the other competitors?

All of Adalicia's family was crying, though, and her image behind their platform just reminded Hector that yes, she had been far too young for this. Her older brother looked devastated, completely broken. He couldn't've been older than Hector. Her parents stood on either side of their remaining child, all three of them holding onto each other like a support web.

Paris's father was weeping, but his mother just had a hard expression on her beautiful, calloused face. They were both covered in ash and dust, as nice as their clothes were, out of place amongst the shining faces of this place. Hector wondered how poverty in this golden District could compare to poverty in the other places. Did the people here even comprehend how bad things were in 12 or 8? _Could_ they?

The lunch was delicious, with light, attractive food that Hector felt guilty eating. The people wore colorful clothing, all of them good conversationalists, more attractive than Capitol models, and utterly derisive of him. Hector got the feeling that he was the victim of some big joke that he was just too stupid to notice.

He was glad to leave that place behind.

 **Capitol**

Hector didn't know what he was supposed to expect from the Capitol. On the first day he attended at least three parties, all of them long and exciting and probably costing more than the entirety of District 5 earned in a year. They were expressions of such luxury and waste and utter detachment from the real world that Hector almost felt sorry. The people here were like children, frivolous and ignorant, and Hector felt lonely.

His nightmares were worse here. Caspian was by his bed every night, helping him wake up and calm down. Mags kept the press away, and the two of them coached him during the free minutes of the day in how to be more charismatic, how to say less while talking more, and how to keep people from asking too many questions. He attended a few meals and parties with important people from the Capitol.

At one of the ones he was at, he spotted a few in the crowd that he vaguely recognized. It wasn't until the person introduced himself as Sagittarius Black that Hector realized he was the Head Gamemaker, the man responsible for all of the death.

It was all that Hector could do to keep himself from bashing the man's skull in or vomiting all over his fancy platinum shoes. Mags was at his elbow immediately, holding him back slightly, and a look on Mr. Black's face convinced Hector that Sagittarius was well-aware of Hector's emotions, and that he enjoyed them. Hector practically spat at him, and Sagittarius's voice was calm and musical and mocking.

It was a voice that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

But the week got worse from there. Hector attended a private dinner with the president, who then informed him that a meeting had been set up between him and a Capitol businesswoman. It took a few moments for Hector to fully grasp the meaning of those words, and when he did, he _did_ finally throw up.

After Hector was done, the President informed him that failure to comply with any demands from the businesswoman or from the President's office would result in horrible consequences for Hector's father and the Johnson and Sutherland families.

The night that the meeting was scheduled for was far, _far_ too long, and the details became blurry. Hector had ignored all of Mags's orders and taken a Morphling pill before it had happened, and he had a feeling that his own mind was working to block out the details. This wasn't his first time having sex, and he had considered the matter often, but none of that mattered. He felt dirty. He felt as though all of this was _his_ fault, and it was—he had decided to fight to stay alive! But he had never considered that prostitution would be part of the deal of being a Victor.

HIs thoughts went to Meri, and then he threw up again. When he had washed his mouth with sugar-water and taken another Morphling pill, he forced himself to think about this logically. After all, he'd still trade his own life for Meri's, even if it meant her being forced to—to—but then he was gagging again. Didn't that mean that life was a gift, no matter what he was being forced to do?

 _No. No, it doesn't!_ The issue had changed completely! Knowing what being a Victor meant, Hector no longer knew whether Meri should be alive right now. He felt like the entire world had turned upside down! He no longer knew what he was supposed to do, who or what he was living for, or how he was supposed to go back to living a live! Was his life even his anymore?

 **District 4**

Delsin Sutherland hadn't dropped out of the race for mayor after Meri had been Reaped; on the contrary, he had won. He was the one to hand the bouquet and plaque to Hector Hardy. The entire District broke into applause, including the Cliffies, who had grown to respect Hector due to his alliance with Meri. Delsin often wondered if Meri's death had thrown popular support behind him. If that was true, he would have dropped out long before anyone had had the opportunity to put Meri into the Arena. He knew, deep down, that he had caused his daughter's death.

Hector's speech about Meri was long and heartfelt, and Delsin felt that Hector was at least trying to do Delsin's daughter justice. He respected that. He appreciated it. Nothing could ever do Meri justice, of course, she deserved more than she had ever gotten—a mother, real friends, food to eat every night, a world that wasn't stacked against her—but Hector's tearful words would have to be enough.

Hector approached him at the lunch afterwards. "Mayor Sutherland," he said, uneasily, "I just want to tell you how sorry I am."

Delsin looked at the man who had come home in place of his little girl. "I know. I know that you've been grieving, too."

"Yeah." Hector's face contorted in pain. "She was...amazing. Vibrant, kind, strong—you know all that—and I miss her all the time. But I can't miss her as much as you and your family do. I'm really sorry for your loss."

"Thanks for saying so." Delsin knew that they were getting dangerously close to treason, and hoped that Hector didn't say what they were all thinking: that Meri should've come home, not him. He felt pain for Hector, who despite his age and accomplishments was still a child. No children in Panem should have been forced to do what Hector had.

Delsin just wished that he had the power to make big changes. But his new position as mayor would have to be enough. He would make sure that District 4's children were fed, that they were trained like District 2's were.

"I hope you never feel the pain of losing a child, Hector. It's terrible and all-consuming and I don't think it ever goes away. But I'm glad, and I mean this truly, that you came back. Especially after she died. District Four is always glad to have a Victor, and you fought well, and you deserved to come back too. Don't forget that. Meri wouldn't have wanted you to grieve forever. She would have wanted you to be happy."

Hector's eyes were shiny with tears. "Thank you, sir."

"Have a good night, Hector. Don't be a stranger."

Hector's nightmares that night were some of the worst he had ever had. When he woke up the next morning, he stumbled over to Mags's house, bleary-eyed and vengeful. She was at her table, drinking some coffee. She raised an eyebrow at him and motioned him to sit down.

His first words were a sob. " _Why?!_ "

She reached out and hugged him, enfolding him in her strong arms, and held him tight. "Oh, Hector. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Does this last _forever?!_ "

"As near to it as I can guess. Oh, Hector, I know, I know—it's awful—"

"What are we supposed to do?! Do we condemn our Tributes—our kids—to this? Do we bring them home when we know that they'll have to sell themselves and that they'll never sleep again? We're _monsters,_ Mags!"  
"I know, Hector, I know."

He realized she was crying, too, and they cried together, for Meri and for all of the other dead Tributes, for the children that would keep on dying in their games, for the children that survived but would never truly live again. They cried for the ones that died of starvation and cold and in the factories and on the trawlers and Hector knew that however many tears he shed, it would never be equal to the number of people that had died under this regime, and never truly representative of the human capacity to feel misery and to be cruel.

"Do you remember Parcel Days?" Mags finally asked him after what felt like centuries.

"How could I forget?"

"That's what we work for, Hector. And someday— _someday_ —I promise you that things will be different. We can make a change. Someday."

"Mags—don't make promises you can't keep."

"I plan on keeping it," Mags whispered in his ear. "Someday, Hector."

Hector wondered how many gravestones would line up before _someday_ finally arrived. He wondered how he could do anything, now that he was just a cog in the wheel. He looked up at Mags's eyes—sea green, District 4, met by his dark District 2 eyes, both of them utterly Panemian—and nodded.

"Someday."

 **The End**

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **And there you have it.**

 **I hope that everyone enjoyed this story. As always, I would love any reviews.**

 **Thank you to all those who have reviewed this story. Special thanks to Golden Moon Huntress, Nordic Nonsense, AlphaZero21, and Kintsugade, who have reviewed most chapters. You guys really keep me going.**

 _ **The Hunger Games**_ **belongs to Suzanne Collins and and Lionsgate/Color Force. ("Because I Could Not Stop For Death" belongs to Emily Dickinson. "The Last Rose of Summer" belongs to Thomas Moore.** _ **Those We Leave Behind**_ **belongs to I Am Ghost. "Hyperion" belongs to John Keats.)**

 **Thanks so much, everyone, and goodbye for the last time.**

* * *

 **Final Score List**

24. **Jeanna Rasch,** District 8, killed by **Talon Prime** , District 10 (Day 1)

23. **Ezrael Ward,** District 12, killed by **Faustia Graston** , District 2 (Day 1)

22\. **Robin Wood** , District 5, killed by **Kaede Mitchell,** District 7 (Day 1)

21\. **Zara Kapoor** , District 3, killed by Fish Muttation (and Florence Channing, District 9) (Day 2)

20\. **Luke Abaca** , District 11, killed by **Mist Orchard,** District 11 (Night 2)

19\. **Cabe Corda** , District 3, killed by **Faustia Graston,** District 2 (Night 3)

18\. **Percival Pisani** , District 6, killed by **Kaede Mitchell** , District 7 (Night 3)

17\. **Acacia Mildeye** , District 7, killed by **Landon Mercer** , District 5 (Night 3)

16\. **Talon Prime** , District 10, killed by **Kronos Malakai** , District 9 (and Florence Channing, District 9) (Day 4)

15\. **Midas Redglove** , District 8, killed by Bird Muttation (Day 4)

14\. **Paris Sapphire,** District 1, killed by **Fiori Hart** , District 10 (and Percival Pisani, District 6) (Day 5)

13\. **Ash Gabbro** , District 2 killed by **Kaede Mitchell** , District 7 (Day 5)

12\. **Khol Thomas** , District 12, killed by **Zoe Winter** , District 6 (Night 5)

11\. **Mist Orchard,** District 11, killed by **Zoe Winter** , District 6 (Night 5)

10. **Kaede Mitchell** , District 7, killed by **Hector Hardy** , District 4 (Day 6)

9\. **Meri Sutherland** , District 4, killed by Zombie Muttations (Day 6)

8\. **Zoe Winter** , District 6, killed by **Adalicia Corona** , District 1 (and Fiori Hart, District 10) (Day 7)

7\. **Landon Mercer** , District 5, killed by **Florence Channing** and **Kronos Malakai** of District 9 (Day 7)

6\. **Adalicia Corona** , District 1, killed by drowning/Gamemakers (Day 7)

5\. **Kronos Malakai** , District 9, killed by **Fiori Hart** , District 10 (Day 7)

4\. **Florence Channing,** District 9, killed by **Hector Hardy** , District 4 (Day 7)

3. **Fiori Hart,** District 10, killed by **Faustia Graston** , District 2 (Day 7)

2\. **Faustia Graston** , District 2, killed by **Hector Hardy** , District 4 (Day 7)

VICTOR: **Hector Hardy** , District 4 Male, 18 years


End file.
